THE 
TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 


THE 
TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

BY 

JAY  WILLIAM  HUDSON 

PROFESSOR  OP  PHILOSOPHY  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

MISSOURI,  AUTHOR  OF  "THE  COLLEGE 

AND  NEW  AMERICA" 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 

1921 


COPYRIGHT,   1921,  BY 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


TO  MY  FRIEND 

JOHN  DIELL  BLAhTON 

ONE    OP    THE    TYPE    OF    MEN 

THAT  WILL  NOT  LET 
THE    GREAT   VERITIES   FEBISB 


1824048 


PREFACE 

THIS  book  is  the  outcome  of  two  very  different 
sorts  of  experience :  one,  the  teaching  of  philosophy 
in  a  typical  American  university;  the  other,  the 
frequent  discussion  of  problems  of  philosophic  im- 
port before  the  larger  public.  Both  of  these  ex- 
periences have  convinced  the  writer  that  what  our 
time  sorely  needs  is  an  ethical  reconstruction  in  the 
light  of  the  new  intellectual  trends  of  the  day, — 
a  new  grounding  of  the  great  verities  of  life  and 
mind  that  will  be  convincing  to  the  men  who  actively 
participate  in  contemporary  civilization. 

Such  an  ethical  reconstruction  is  made  directly 
necessary  by  the  fact  that  modern  science  has 
seemed  slowly  and  effectively  to  have  destroyed 
many  of  the  old  beliefs  that  were  once  the  safe- 
guards of  the  moral  order.  How  many,  indeed,  of 
those  acquainted  with  the  meaning  of  scientific  prog- 
ress can  retain  any  sure  confidence  in  such  intan- 
gible things  as  the  Moral  Ideal,  or  Immortality,  or 
God,  or  the  Freedom  of  the  "Will?  In  general  men 
of  to-day  are  divided  into  two  great  classes  in  their 
attitudes  toward  such  matters;  they  either  accept 
the  agnosticism  of  science,  or  they  take  refuge  in  a 
faith  that  presumes  to  ignore  science.  Both  atti- 
tudes have  one  thing  in  common, — a  grievous  lack 
of  appreciation  of  the  importance  of  the  great  veri- 

vii 


PREFACE 

ties  for  practical  life  as  expressed  in  the  individual 
and  in  his  social  institutions. 

These  attitudes  of  the  contemporary  mind  are 
unfortunate,  and  ultimately  disastrous.  For  what 
we  are  accustomed  to  call  the  great  verities  are  of 
immense  practical  significance ;  a  faith  in  them  which 
takes  no  account  of  modern  scientific  thought  will 
end  in  inevitable  doubt ;  and,  while  the  agnosticism 
of  science  is  sound  so  far  as  science  goes,  it  is  not 
final,  since  it  happens  that  the  logic  of  science  is 
not  the  only  logic  there  is.  The  difficulty  is  that 
most  men  of  culture  tend  to  think  so.  For  the  chief 
reason  for  the  prevalent  skepticism  concerning  life's 
fundamental  problems  is  the  widespread  belief  that 
the  range  of  natural  science  and  of  human  reason 
are  synonymous ;  that  not  only  what  science  demon- 
strates is  true,  but  that  what  it  cannot  or  does  not 
demonstrate  is  either  beyond  decision  or  is  thereby 
disproved. 

One  of  the  principal  aims  of  this  book  is  to  show 
the  utter  falsity  of  this  position.  No  one  values 
the  achievements  of  natural  science  more  than  the 
writer.  No  one  is  less  desirous  of  disputing  a  single 
scientific  fact  or  law.  But  he,  in  common  with  any 
one  else  who  has  investigated  and  taught  scientific 
method,  is  naturally  more  cautious  than  is  the  aver- 
age man  either  in  drawing  sweeping  conclusions 
from  scientific  hypotheses,  or  in  assuming  that  rea- 
son has  had  its  utmost  say  when  natural  science 
has  given  its  last  word.  Reason  is  larger  than  the 
reason  of  that  special  enterprise  called  science;  it 
has  other  methods  of  proof  precisely  as  cogent  as 

viii 


PREFACE 

are  science's  demonstrations.  It  is  through  such  a 
reason  that  the  writer  undertakes  to  prove  the 
truths  we  live  by, — the  truths  which  many  men  have 
practically  abandoned,  not  so  much  because  they 
have  thought  as  because  they  have  not  thought 
enough.  Grant  if  you  please  that  many  of  the  old 
arguments  for  the  great  verities  are  now  foolish, 
this  does  not  render  the  great  verities  themselves 
foolish,  provided  there  are  other  reasons,  in  har- 
mony with  science,  that  demand  them  and  amply 
justify  them. 

The  writer  begins  with  the  concrete  conflicts  of 
our  own  day  because  they  strenuously  demand  the 
great  verities  for  their  solution,  and  because  out  of 
them  has  already  begun  to  emerge  a  desire,  how- 
ever vague,  for  the  spiritual  reconstruction  of  civil- 
ization. Such  a  reconstruction  is  then  attempted  in 
an  argument  for  a  definite  sort  of  moral  order,  fol- 
lowed by  proofs  of  the  truths  essential  to  confidence 
in  it — namely,  Immortality,  God,  and  Freedom  of 
Choice.  Then  follows  the  discovery  that  the  moral 
order  reached  is  no  more  or  less  than  what  we  mean 
by  modern  democracy  when  significantly  interpreted. 
The  final  problem  is  to  trace  how  far  present  ten- 
dencies, especially  in  current  religion  and  in  the 
general  temper  of  the  American  people,  are  toward 
such  a  moral  order  and  its  great  faiths.  In  dis- 
cussing religious  tendencies,  the  writer  has  avoided 
matters  of  religious  controversy,  and  has  addressed 
himself  to  religion  only  as  it  touches  practical  con- 
cerns. He  has  tried  to  make  clear  the  invaluable 
function  of  religion  in  civilization;  and  it  may  be 

ix 


PEEFACE 

that  his  message  will  be  of  help  to  those  in  religious 
doubt,  as  well  as  to  those  who  teach  the  great  veri- 
ties in  the  name  of  religion,  and  who  face  the  many 
logical  difficulties  now  in  their  way. 

Obviously,  this  book  is  not  written  for  profes- 
sional philosophers.  It  is  written  for  men  and 
women  of  average  education  who  have  not  special- 
ized in  philosophy,  but  who  are,  nevertheless,  in- 
terested in  life's  greater  problems.  There  are  not 
many  technicalities.  Yet,  the  intention  has  been  to 
be  exact ;  and  when  the  choice  has  been  between  ease 
of  style  on  the  one  hand  and  precision  on  the  other, 
the  latter  has  been  favored.  Beneath  all  that  ap- 
pears in  these  pages  there  is,  of  course,  a  systematic 
philosophy  of  things,  a  world-view,  which  is  the 
deeper  foundation  for  what  is  here  visible. 

J.  W.  H. 

AIGNAK.  FHANCB 


CONTENTS 
PART  I 

MORAL  CONFLICT  AND  SKEPTICISM 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF   IDEALS 3 

H.    A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 24 

III.  THE  CONDITIONS  OF  MORAL  CONFIDENCE    ....  51 

IV.  THE  PHILOSOPHER,  THE  POET,  AND  THE  PROPHET    .       .  58 
V.    MODERN  SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES     ...  69 

VI.    THE  PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  Wte  LIVE  BY     .      .      .92 

PAET  II 

THE  GEEAT  VERITIES 

VII.    IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM  FOR  TO-DAY  ....  119 

VIII.    THE  MODERN  AND  His  GOD  .......  162 

IX.    ARE  WE  MASTEBS  OF  OUR  FATES?    .....  195 

PAET  III 

PRESENT  TENDENCIES  TOWARD  MORAL  FAITH 

X.    THE  MORAL  ORDER  AS  DEMOCRACY    .       .       .       .       .  247 

XI.    MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 258 

XII.    THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH  .....  280 

INDEX  301 


PARTI 

MORAL  CONFLICT 
AND  SKEPTICISM 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  PBESENT  CONFLICT  OP  IDEALS 

THERE  have  been  ages  of  moral  conflict,  and  there 
have  been  ages  of  moral  skepticism.  This  age  is 
both.  Practically,  men  are  resolutely  fighting  for  a 
multitude  of  ideals,  so  there  is  moral  conflict ;  theo- 
retically, they  are  in  great  doubt,  and  there  is  moral 
skepticism.  For  the  man  of  to-day  tends  to  regard 
the  truth  about  life's  ideals  as  merely  a  point  of 
view;  and  are  there  not  many  points  of  view,  each 
justified  in  its  own  way  I  Uneducated  men  may  still 
believe  that  there  is  a  never-changing  distinction 
between  right  and  wrong, — that  is,  between  good  and 
bad  ideals  of  life ;  but  the  mind  attuned  to  modern 
culture  is  inclined  to  think  that  right  and  wrong 
and  the  ideals  they  serve  are  chiefly  matters  of  con- 
vention. What  is  clearer  than  that  all  morals  grew 
out  of  the  passing  stress  of  circumstance ;  that  what 
is  good  in  one  age  is  bad  in  another ;  and  that  even 
in  the  same  age  morality  varies  with  race  and  coun- 
try? 

So,  theoretically,  the  contemporary  man  tends  to 
be  a  moral  skeptic.  Of  course  he  is  ready  to  insist 

3 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

that  this  does  not  mean  the  breakdown  of  morals, 
or  that  any  one  may  do  as  he  pleases.  There  are 
ways  of  living  to  which  every  sensible  person  will 
conform.  The  sensible  man  will  regard  the  cus- 
toms and  institutions  of  his  country  with  a  decent 
respect;  otherwise  the  welfare  of  society  would  not 
be  secure  for  one  moment.  Yet  if  asked  further 
just  what  this  "welfare  of  society"  really  means, 
this  same  sensible  man  is  not  certain  to  the  point 
of  defining  it;  and  surely  he  does  not  desire  to  be 
pressed  regarding  it.  In  fact  he  very  much  fears 
that  any  attempt  at  close  definition  may  lead  to 
moral  dogmatism, — which  he  considers  a  very  bad 
thing  for  that  most  praised  of  modern  intellectual 
virtues,  open-mindedness. 

When  any  one,  opposing  this  skeptical  view,  insists 
upon  discovering  any  hard  and  fast  distinction  be- 
tween what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong,  he  straight- 
way risks  being  dubbed  "old-fashioned,"  hopeless- 
ly behind  those  who  count  themselves  among  the 
"liberated"  and  the  "enlightened."  For  the  en- 
lightened man  of  to-day  knows  something  of  history. 
He  looks  back  over  thousands  of  years  and  views 
a  bewildering  panorama  of  quite  various  moral 
ideals  bitterly  battling  with  one  another  for  recog- 
nition ;  conquering  one  by  one ;  going  down  to  defeat 
one  by  one ;  dominating  this  civilization  and  that  in 
turn;  each  passing  to  f orgetfulness ;  each  super- 
seded; each  rising  again;  and  all  surviving  inex- 
plicably to  continue  the  never-ending  struggle  in 
his  own  civilization.  He  may  well  ask, 

4 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

Where  is  any  certain  tune 
Or  measured  music  in  such  notes  as  these? 

If  there  is  any  absolute  moral  standard,  what  is  it? 
Custom?  But  there  are  all  sorts  of  conflicting  cus- 
toms. Which  of  them  is  right?  Laws  of  nature? 
But  even  laws  of  nature  change  with  man's  knowl- 
edge; and  besides,  one  cannot  violate  a  law  of  na- 
ture anyway,  even  if  one  would.  And  where  one 
can  do  no  wrong  no  morals  are  at  stake.  Laws  of 
men?  But  legislators  are  fallible  and  legislatures 
differ,  and  men  have  never  held  much  moral  awe  for 
them.  Laws  of  God?  But  there  are  many  supposed 
revelations  of  God's  will,  and  each  has  its  multitu- 
dinous interpretations.  Conscience?  But  people's 
consciences  differ  surprisingly,  and  even  the  con- 
science of  the  same  person  is  bafflingly  uncertain  and 
often  inconsistent  at  different  times.  Is  happiness 
the  true  ideal  of  men  ?  But  what  is  happiness  ?  How 
is  it  measured?  And  how  can  one  foretell  what 
deeds  will  bring  happiness  or  misery  in  the  long 
run?  Is  it  asceticism,  the  mortification  of  the  flesh? 
Perhaps.  But  this,  or  such  other  prominently  urged 
ideals  as  the  life  of  reason,  or  the  glorification  of  the 
will  in  the  life  of  deeds,  are  either  very  vague  or 
insist  upon  fighting  with  each  other  and  with  all  the 
rest. 

I 

If  one  should  choose  from  all  these  various  con- 
flicts one  example  for  conspicuous  emphasis,  one 

5 


might  select  the  current  conflict  between  the  moral 
motive  of  pleasure  on  the  one  hand  and  that  of 
self-sacrifice  on  the  other, — both  prominent  and  con- 
tradictory motives  of  contemporary  life.  The 
contradiction  of  hedonism  and  sacrifice,  of  the  pleas- 
ure-seeker and  the  ascetic,  is  of  course  not  new;  it 
has  furnished  one  of  the  most  picturesque  contrasts 
to  be  found  in  history.  It  has  afforded  light  and 
shadow  for  many  a  dramatic  use,  and  has  dominated 
the  meaning  of  entire  civilizations.  These  two  con- 
tradictory spirits,  the  worldly  and  the  unworldly, 
are  ever  with  us.  We  very  frequently  find  them  in 
our  own  persons,  each  clamorous  for  expression, 
each  denying  the  other.  The  story  of  the  Puritan 
and  the  Pagan,  both  living  in  the  same  body,  ever 
warring  with  one  another,  one  looking  out  on  the 
world  with  the  eye  of  duty,  the  other  with  the  eye 
of  beauty,  going  to  the  same  grave  together,  by 
whose  gray  stone  grows  the  red  rose, — such  a  story 
has  a  strangely  intimate  appeal  to  such  Americans 
as  seriously  embody  their  country's  moral  history. 
From  one  point  of  view  our  age  is  indubitably 
an  age  of  pleasure-seeking.  Ours  is  the  hedonistic 
creed.  One  way  of  finding  the  temper  of  a  people 
is  to  observe  the  social  sets  that  are  looked  up  to  for 
guidance  and  emulation.  Now,  it  is  clear  that  Ameri- 
can social  sets  exist  not  primarily  for  intellectual 
or  even  esthetic  culture,  but  for  the  achievement 
of  pleasure.  For  society  in  America,  this  has  be- 
come a  strenuous  social  business,  and  has  almost 
assumed  the  character  of  a  social  art.  This  hedon- 

6 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

istio  ideal  is  the  real  meaning  of  the  insistence  upon 
such  personal  qualities  as  pleasing  manners,  genial- 
ity, cleverness,  and  savoir  faire.  The  highest  com- 
pliment that  one  person  can  yield  another  is  the 
hedonistic  tribute  that  he  or  she  is  " charming." 
Again,  this  ideal  is  the  real  reason  why  foreigners 
find  that  among  us  such  topics  as  religion,  business, 
and  politics  are  discouraged  in  polite  conversation. 
For  conversation  must  possess  the  hedonistic  charm 
of  freshness,  vivacity,  wit,  and  an  engaging  and  sym- 
pathetic intelligence  which  leads  thought  in  pleasant 
places  without  requiring  intellectual  work.  This  he- 
donistic ideal  needs  wealth  to  make  it  possible,  and 
is  the  deeper  meaning  of  wealth  as  a  social  advan- 
tage. Such  hedonism  is  expressed  in  the  dress  of 
the  American  woman,  causing  her  to  be  considered 
by  many  as  the  best  dressed  woman  in  the  world. 
This  hedonism,  requiring  wealth  for  its  satisfaction, 
is  most  of  all  to  be  found  in  the  "social  function.*' 
Here  it  is  that  society  as  a  hedonistic  art  comes  to 
its  expert  expression.  And  the  people  at  large  tend, 
within  their  limits  of  opportunity,  to  adopt  this  same 
search  for  pleasure  as  a  secondary  religious  creed. 
They  take  it  so  seriously  that  it  is  hard,  nay,  al- 
most impossible  for  Americans  to  cultivate  the  vir- 
tue of  thrift.  It  is  this  hedonistic  ideal  that  causes 
them  to  live  beyond  their  incomes.  With  multitudes 
of  people  the  right  to  achieve  pleasure  is  even  the 
fundamental  moral  duty,  and  its  achievement  the 
supreme  test  of  the  successful  life. 
But  current  life  presents  a  contradiction  to  all 

7 


this,  that  challenges  such  an  estimate  of  the  Ameri- 
can people  as  utterly  false.  The  American  is  no 
soft  player  of  lutes  in  a  court  of  fountains.  He  is  a 
fighter;  and  his  capacity  for  quiet  sacrifice  and 
heroic  suffering  is  one  of  his  conspicuous  traits, 
and  one  which  he  admires  most  in  the  men  that  have 
made  America  what  it  is.  Fortunate  has  been  the 
public  man  who  could  point  to  the  humble  log  cabin 
as  his  birthplace;  it  is  the  symbol  of  struggle  and 
privation.  No  people  in  the  world  are  more  suscep- 
tible to  the  appeal  of  great  causes  that  demand  the 
devotion  of  combat  and  self-abnegation.  If  the  cause 
is  great  enough  they  will  "give  until  it  hurts"  of 
money,  of  comforts,  yes,  of  flesh  and  blood.  There 
is  something  deeper  than  the  search  for  pleasure  in 
American  life,  something  that  contradicts  such  a 
search  as  small  and  low  and  superficial.  It  is  to  be 
found  in  the  strenuous  hardness  and  courage  of  its 
millions  of  business  men  and  women,  of  its  thou- 
sands of  teachers  who  subsist  on  little  pay,  and  en- 
dure much  privation  for  the  conviction  of  a  work 
worth  while.  While  the  American  is  too  sober  of 
mind  to  seek  anything  so  fantastic  as  martyrdom, 
he  is  of  the  spirit  of  which  martyrs  are  made.  Even 
much  of  his  play  is  the  play  that  demands  capacity 
for  hardship,  as  prize-fighting  and  football.  A  trans- 
continental air-race,  involving  accident  and  death, 
appeals  to  the  American  as  a  sport  supremely  of 
his  mood.  It  is  a  reflection  of  his  hardy  ideal  of 
life. 

This,  as  well  as  the  other  contradictory  outlooks 

8 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

upon  life,  occur  to-day  not  only  in  different  sets  of 
men  opposing  one  another;  they  are  just  as  likely 
to  belong  to  one  and  the  same  man.  John  C.  Van 
Dyke  mentions  that  the  Italian  of  the  Renaissance 
was  a  paradoxical  being,  full  of  the  most  surprising 
contradictions.  "One  side  of  his  nature  was  often 
aspiring,  inventive,  artistic,  philosophical ;  the  other 
side  was  quite  as  often  skeptical,  treacherous,  im- 
moral, polluted.  He  could  doubt  and  he  could  believe 
with  equal  freedom;  he  could  be  cultured  and  yet 
debased;  he  could  saturate  himself  with  crime  and 
corruption,  yet  rhapsodize  over  things  esthetic  and 
kneel  at  the  altar  of  Christianity.  Our  nineteenth- 
century  wonder  at  this  strange  marriage  of  Beauty 
and  the  Beast  is  perhaps  pardonable.  How  a  man 
could  be  enlightened,  refined,  devout,  brave,  and  yet 
break  almost  every  one  of  the  ten  commandments 
we  fail  to  understand." *  The  American,  while  for- 
tunately not  this  undesirable  blending  of  good  and 
evil,  is  yet  as  contradictory  in  his  own  way.  The 
same  man  is  rational  and  credulous,  practical  and 
idealistic,  a  pleasure-seeker  and  a  heroic  exemplar 
of  impossible  sacrifice.  In  him  are  apt  to  be  all  the 
contradictory  ideals  that  we  have  named.  And  like 
the  man  of  the  Renaissance,  he  knows  not  that  it  is 
he  himself,  that  it  is  these  very  contradictions  in 
himself,  that  are  at  the  bottom  of  most  of  the  prob- 
lems he  now  struggles  with  and  futilely  seeks  to 

1  Memoirs  of  Benvenuto  CelUni,  translated  by   John  Addington 
Symonds,  Introduction. 

9 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

solve.  Indeed,  it  is  manifest  that  up  to  quite  recently 
most  men  were  relatively  unconscious  of  even  the 
existence  of  these  glaring  contradictions  of  their 
times ;  and  even  now  only  the  few  realize  them  and 
are  prepared  to  confront  them  belligerently.  For  to 
say  that  there  is  any  absolute  distinction  between 
right  and  wrong  is  to  raise  unwelcome  difficulties. 
It  seems  the  same  as  to  say  that  some  one  of  this  host 
of  conflicting  ideals  has  an  absolutely  proved  prece- 
dence over  all  the  others.  For  conduct  can  be  said 
to  be  right  only  as  it  leads  to  whatever  is  the  true 
ideal,  and  wrong  only  as  it  leads  away  from  it.  But 
who  knows  enough  to  settle  what  is  this  true  ideal? 
To  attempt  to  do  so  would  be  arrant  presumption, 
would  it  not? 


Even  if  it  were  decided  quite  rationally  that  one 
of  these  moral  standards  is  the  only  true  one,  as,  for 
example,  the  ideal  of  pleasure,  the  crucial  question 
of  modern  times  would  still  remain:  Do  we  mean 
the  pleasure  of  society  or  of  the  individual?  Which 
is  first?  In  actual  practice  the  world  is  greatly 
divided  on  this  question.  To-day  the  most  glaring 
contradiction  of  all  in  every  civilized  country  is  the 
contradiction  between  the  individual  and  society,  be- 
tween personal  liberty  and  social  control.  On  the 
one  hand,  it  appears  to  be  an  age  in  which  the  indi- 
vidual has  at  last  found  himself  and  asserts  himself 

10 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

and  clamors  for  his  rights.  The  individual  has  be- 
come so  conscious  of  himself  that  it  sometimes  seems 
that  he  is  conscious  of  nothing  else.  American 
civilization  has  always  meant  an  unprecedented 
emphasis  upon  the  value  of  the  individual ;  and  this 
has  meant  an  unprecedented  emphasis  upon  his  pos- 
sibilities and  his  rights.  In  any  country,  men  have 
ever  wanted  what  they  had  not;  but  the  individual's 
right  to  want  things,  and  more,  his  right  to  get  his 
wants  fulfilled,  have  never  been  stressed  as  in 
America.  This  stress  has  been  achieved  in  various 
ways.  The  average  American  has  been  gradually 
attaining  a  new  self-appraisement  through  demo- 
cratic education,  which  ever  breeds  introspection, 
and  through  the  democratic  spread  of  the  numerous 
modern  agencies  that  lift  even  the  wage-earner's 
thoughts  beyond  his  sphere,  and  the  visions  of  the 
ordinary  business  man  beyond  his  desk  and  counter. 
The  theater — not  least  the  moving-picture  theater — 
the  novel,  increased  travel,  the  magazines  and  the 
newspapers,  and  now,  at  last,  a  new  world-outlook, 
are  among  the  obvious  means  by  which  has  been 
awakened  in  almost  every  man  an  appreciation  of 
the  life  he  might  be  living,  compared  with  the  life  he 
actually  lives.  To  this  same  man,  American  democ- 
racy comes  with  its  gospel  of  the  equality  of  all 
men,  verified  now  not  only  through  the  practical 
sovereignty  conferred  with  the  ballot,  but  by  the 
recent  vision  of  suffering  and  death  for  democratic 
ideals.  Through  this  startling  sacrifice,  the  indi- 

11 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

vidual  not  only  knows  his  value  as  a  theory,  but 
proves  it  as  a  triumphant  fact.  It  is  his  supreme 
vindication ;  through  it  he  is  utterly  awakened.  The 
"commonwealth  of  kings"  is  no  longer  a  poetical 
flourish.  The  recent  American  feels  his  power;  his 
desires  have  become  demands  and  his  ideals  edicts. 
Yes,  the  late  world-conflict,  by  its  emphasized  issues 
and  by  the  nature  of  its  victory  and  ensuing  peace, 
has  ushered  the  individual  into  a  sudden,  self- 
conscious  maturity.  True,  it  achieved  social  sol- 
idarity as  never  before;  this  was  a  war-time  asset 
of  priceless  worth.  But  how  was  it  achieved  ?  By  a 
paradox.  By  a  new  and  unprecedented  stress  upon 
the  dignity  and  rights  of  the  individual  man.  This 
stress  survives  while  the  new  social  solidarity  wanes 
as  a  transient  phenomenon.  The  latter  failed  to' 
attain  the  dignity  of  a  fundamental  motive. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  this  arrant  individualism,  never 
was  there  such  an  age  of  social  organization  and 
insistence  upon  imperative  social  obligations  that 
nullify  the  boasted  rights  that  belong  to  the  indi- 
vidual as  such.  Never  was  individual  liberty  so 
threatened  by  social  constraint.  Never  was  there 
such  a  passion  for  making  laws  to  curb  the  indi- 
vidual; even  what  he  shall  eat  and  drink  is  pre- 
scribed, or  at  least  proscribed!  Yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  never  was  law  more  ignored  and  defied  and 
contravened.  Has  the  individual  at  last  asserted 
his  sovereign  rights  even  in  industry,  and  is  he 
eloquent  concerning  the  coming  industrial  democ- 

12 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

racy?  Well,  social  organization  in  the  form  of  gov- 
ernment has  been  known  to  enjoin  him  even  from 
the  sacred  right  of  striking.  This  reign  of  social 
imperatives  reaches  to  conscripting  by  public 
opinion  the  individual's  contributions  to  what  he 
used  to  consider  as  " charity,"  a  purely  voluntary 
thing  to  which  he  might  or  might  not  give,  as  he 
freely  chose.  For  the  idea  of  charity  has  given  way 
to  that  of  social  justice,  and  the  modern  " drive"  for 
contributions  has  the  immense  weight  of  the  social 
force  behind  it.  Never  was  the  individual  so  boldly 
clamorous;  yet  never  was  the  individual  so  utterly 
annulled !  It  is  by  contradictions  like  this  that  social 
orders  are  revised  or  destroyed. 

So  crucial  has  this  conflict  between  the  individual 
and  society  come  to  be,  especially  in  politics  and  in 
economics,  that  to  many  it  seems  to  threaten  the 
dissolution  of  democracy.  How  far  may  social 
organization,  political  or  other,  encroach  upon  the 
individual?  How  far  do  inalienable  personal  rights 
extend, — rights  which  no  social  obligation,  no  social 
force,  may  justly  ignore?  Is  there,  after  all,  any 
solution  to  this  now  acute  question  except  the  tem- 
porary solution  of  compromise  after  compromise, 
each  trembling  upon  the  edge  of  an  unstable  equilib- 
rium that  means  revolution  ?  This  skeptical  attitude 
is  quite  prevalent.  To  many,  a  resolute  attempt  to 
solve  this  problem  seems  premature.  The  world  is 
still  young.  It  is  prudent  to  wait  for  the  further 
evolution  of  civilization. 

13 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

HI 

Thus,  the  attitude  of  the  contemporary  man 
toward  the  ever-present  conflict  of  these  and  other 
moral  ideals  continues  to  be  one  of  skepticism. 
Theoretically,  that  is,  he  is  not  prepared  to  prove 
absolute  and  abiding  moral  convictions.  Practically, 
he  is  fairly  loyal  to  institutions  as  they  are  (if  they 
are  not  too  much  in  his  way),  with  a  faith  in  their 
inherent  power  to  progress  somehow  and  to  achieve 
something  vrorth  while  for  him  as  time  goes  on. 
Practically,  he  will  fight  with  all  his  soul  for  what 
he  deems  to  be  right,  else  the  present  practical 
conflict  of  ideals  would  not  be  so  healthily  vigorous. 
But  bring  him  to  the  realm  of  theory,  and  he  is  sud- 
denly uncertain.  It  is  not  that  the  modern  man  is 
without  ideals,  but  his  is  an  idealism  whose  ideal 
is  left  undefined,  in  the  mood  that  says  with  a  some- 
what splendid  faith, 

Oh  yet  we  trust  that  somehow  good 
Will  be  the  final  goal  of  ill. 

To  give  all  the  reasons  for  the  advent  of  this 
moral  conflict  and  its  accompanying  skepticism 
would  be  impossible.  Of  course  it  is  partly  the  re- 
sult of  our  large  inheritance  of  accumulated  conflicts 
of  history.  One  very  obvious  cause  is  the  quite 
sudden  fruition  during  the  last  century  of  a  bewil- 
deringly  versatile  civilization,  which  took  us  un- 
awares and  challenged  into  life  exceedingly  contra- 

14 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

dictory  traits  in  human  nature,  which  have  not  yet 
had  time  for  proper  organization  and  adjustment. 
But  there  are  two  immediate  causes  that  especially 
stand  out.  I  refer  to  the  influence  of  modern  science 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  the  World  War  on  the  other. 
The  former  has  meant  a  theoretical  revision  and  the 
latter  a  practical  revision  of  many  of  our  attitudes 
toward  life.  It  is  well  to  consider  these  two  influ- 
ences briefly. 

Indubitably  this  is  an  age  of  science.  In  terms  of 
science  it  is  that  we  hope  at  last  to  interpret  and 
master  both  nature  and  ourselves.  Through  science 
man  has  at  length  approximated  to  the  "rational 
animal"  that  Aristotle  somewhat  prematurely  said 
he  was.  In  science  we  trust ;  science  that  has  become 
synonymous  with  reason.  Nature  once  had  her 
unexplored  regions, — regions  of  mystery  where  the 
gods  still  hid.  But  now  all  regions  are  either 
science 's  own,  or  are  in  the  process  of  becoming  her 
own.  By  science,  even  society  has  been  relentlessly 
rationalized  in  its  economics,  its  politics,  and  its  his- 
tory. There  is  no  further  room  here  for  mere 
traditions,  however  sanctified  by  time.  And  this 
science  of  which  we  boast  does  not  stop  in  its  con- 
quest with  the  formation  of  theory;  it  invades  all 
practical  affairs  under  the  name  of  "efficiency," 
which  is  reason  applied  beyond  what  we  think  to 
what  we  do.  Even  the  arts,  the  last  refuge  of 
inspiration  and  the  divine  afflatus,  have  not  escaped 
the  scientific  analysis  that  would  strip  naked  the 

15 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

empty  pretention  of  their  mysteries  and  reveal  them 
in  their  anatomy.  Down  into  the  very  depths  of 
consciousness  has  science  probed  in  the  name  of 
psychology,  until  at  length,  the  most  sacred  emotions 
and  the  most  complex  functions  of  imagination  and 
dreams  have  been  duly  analyzed  into  their  elements, 
catalogued,  and  numbered.  By  this  same  science 
the  portals  of  religion  have  been  stormed,  and  the 
pulpit  now  argues  from  premises  of  a  religion  scien- 
tifically assayed.  By  the  reasoning  spirit  of  this 
same  science  the  stronghold  of  patriotism  has  been 
taken,  its  old  loyalties  dissected,  and  the  blind  pas- 
sion that  warred  against  a  world  of  enemies  has 
been  transmuted  into  the  rationalization  of  dis- 
cordant nations  in  a  world-league.  Yes,  it  is  in- 
dubitably an  age  of  science. 

How  has  this  triumph  of  scientific  reason  affected 
morals! 

Moral  ideals  were  once  accepted  on  faith  from 
age-long  tradition.  Tradition  was  enough.  But 
through  the  influence  of  modern  science,  tradition, 
which  once  bequeathed  immutable  faiths,  has  lost 
much  of  its  sanctity.  A  moral  ideal  that  is  based 
merely  upon  tradition  and  custom  is  now  regarded 
as  quite  insecure.  It  may  be  a  broad  tentative  guide 
to  right  living,  since  it  is  a  summing  up  of  the  accu- 
mulated experiences  of  the  race;  but  scrutinized 
modernly  it  yields  nothing  certain.  For  science  re- 
minds us  that  the  customs  of  men  that  eventuate  in 
moral  laws  are  nothing  more  than  the  products  of 

16 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

the  struggle  for  existence,  and  depend  upon  such 
prosaic  contingencies  as  the  particular  conditions 
under  which  a  people  happens  to  live,  as  climate, 
soil,  topography,  and  the  natural  foes  and  social 
retardations  that  must  be  overcome  to  make  life 
possible.  Change  the  circumstances  and  you  change 
the  customs;  and  casual  inspection  shows  that  the 
circumstances  change  vastly  with  a  shift  of  locality 
or  with  the  lapse  of  a  few  centuries. 

Nor  will  science  any  longer  allow  morals  to  find 
an  immutable  foundation  in  divine  revelation.  The 
general  impression  is  that  science  considers  revela- 
tion irrelevant  because  it  involves  that  unscientific 
impossibility  called  a  miracle.  At  any  rate,  speak- 
ing most  conservatively,  revelation  true  or  false  is 
utterly  outside  accepted  scientific  method  and  dem- 
onstration ;  and  to  say  this  is  to  say  that  for  many 
cultured  minds  revelation  is  growingly  doubtful  as 
an  approved  source  of  moral  truth. 

Nor  does  the  authority  of  conscience  fare  any 
better.  Analyzed  by  scientific  race-psychology,  the 
conscience  of  the  individual  is  shown  to  be  merely 
the  unconscious  summary  of  the  traditions  of  the 
society  of  which  he  is  a  product.  The  seemingly 
imperative  nature  of  its  commands  is  easily  ac- 
counted for  by  the  fact  that  conscience  is  the  long 
creation  of  heredity  and  of  environment,  including 
the  countless  influences  of  the  society  into  which  one 
happens  to  be  born.  As  in  the  case  of  custom,  so 
with  conscience, 

17 


New  occasions  teach  new  duties ;  Time  makes  ancient  good 
uncouth. 

Other  moral  standards  have  shared  the  same  fate 
at  the  hands  of  science,  as  we  shall  see  later.2 

The  result  of  all  this  upon  the  man  of  modern 
culture  is  insidiously  subtle.  He  has  learned  to  put 
faith  in  science's  deliverances  as  final.  And  since 
science  cannot  justify  the  moral  standards  to  which 
most  men  have  been  accustomed,  he  tends  to  feel 
skeptical  about  the  demonstrableness  of  any  moral 
standard  whatever. 

Long  before  the  World  War,  science  had  already 
achieved  the  theoretical  break-up  of  traditional  be- 
liefs ;  it  remained  for  the  war  to  make  a  tremendous 
practical  revision  of  them.  For  most  men  it  was 
a  cataclysm  of  such  suddenness  and  of  such  immen- 
sity that  they  tended  to  lose  what  fragments  of  faith 
they  still  had  in  the  inherent  triumph  of  righteous- 
ness, and  to  transfer  their  allegiance  to  materialistic 
efficiency,  with  its  logic  of  force,  as  the  only  real 
guarantee  and  meaning  of  the  right.  Further,  the 
war- had  the  effect  of  undermining  the  stability  of 
institutions  cfenturies  old,  as  if  their  foundations 
were  built  upon  the  sands  of  caprice  instead  of  upon 
the  rock  of  rational  authority.  The  result  is  that 
the  great  masses  of  men  have  now  far  less  reverence 
for  the  social  order  and  its  apparently  impregnable 
guarantees. 

And  finally,  out  of  the  war  an  age  of  reconstruc- 

1 C/.  Chapter  V. 

18 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

tion  has  come,  eager  enough  and  hopeful  enough,  but 
motived  by  such  a  bewildering  chaos  of  divergent 
social  purposes  that  moral  caution  and  doubt  have 
gained  respectability  as  the  safe  and  sane  attitude  of 
reasonable  men. 

IV 

What  are  the  bearings  of  this  widespread  conflict 
of  ideals  and  of  this  moral  skepticism  upon  the  wel- 
fare of  the  contemporary  man  ?  What  are  its  effects 
upon  contemporary  social  institutions  and  the  state? 
Is  moral  skepticism  a  good  thing?  If  it  were  a  skep- 
ticism of  despair,  it  might  seek  a  way  out  of  an 
intolerable  situation,  and  so  be  a  skepticism  of  prom- 
ise ;  but  suppose  it  is  a  skepticism  of  indifference? 

Such  a  skepticism  of  indifference  means  an  arrest 
at  the  very  center  of  moral  progress,  namely,  the 
arrest  of  the  progress  of  moral  truth.  It  also  means 
an  arrest  of  practical  progress  along  any  certain 
highway,  at  a  time  when  significant  moral  problems 
are  demanding  immediate  solution  as  never  before. 
Every  institution  of  mankind  is  involved  in  the 
present  warfare  of  ideals.  It  is  found  in  the  com- 
peting purposes  of  even  those  who  are  by  profession 
the  moral  instructors  of  the  times,  the  preachers 
and  educators,  evinced  in  widely  divergent  public 
preachments  and  in  lustily  jousting  ideals  of  educa- 
tion. It  reveals  itself  in  the  vastly  varying  interpre- 
tations of  society  and  of  the  history  of  society; 

19 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

interpretations  economic,  psychologic,  materialistic, 
spiritualistic,  biologic.  Even  the  arts  do  not  escape 
a  conflict  of  motive  and  purpose  that  has  its  direct 
moral  significance.  This  moral  conflict  becomes 
crucially  obvious  in  contemporary  conceptions  of  the 
state  in  its  relation  to  its  citizens,  in  the  goals  of 
its  hope,  in  its  doctrine  of  sovereignty,  and  in  its 
theories  of  obligations  and  rights  with  reference 
to  other  states;  voiced  most  loudly  in  the  fight,  in 
the  interests  of  a  melee  of  motives,  for  and  against 
a  League  of  Nations.  The  same  conflict  is  shown  in 
the  current  definitions  of  democracy;  and  most 
prominently  of  all  in  the  realm  of  industry,  through 
the  revolutionizing  battle  increasingly  acute  between 
Syndicalists,  Anarchists,  Socialists,  and  Bolshe- 
vists; between  conservatives  and  radicals;  between 
capitalists  and  wage-earners;  between  producers 
and  consumers;  a 'battle  which  is  at  bottom  a  war 
of  moral  ideals  in  their  application  to  current  life. 
True,  some  of  these  conflicts  are  born  of  great  prac- 
tical loyalties ;  but  most  of  them  are  made  ineffective 
or  abortive  by  a  lack  of  rational  understanding  and 
hence  of  rational  competence.  I  fear  that  here  we 
come  to  the  very  heart  of  the  present  unrest  in 
America.  It  is  not  merely  the  unrest  of  dissatisfied 
wants ;  it  is  that  much  more  serious  thing,  the  unrest 
of  not  knowing  what  is  wanted.  It  is  the  unrest 
of  the  man  who  craves  something  to  satisfy  his 
palate,  but  knows  not  just  what  it  is  he  craves.  The 
appetite  is  normal  enough ;  it  simply  has  not  defined 

20 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

itself  sufficiently.  It  is  thus  an  experimental  unrest, 
which  seeks  and  tries  and  rejects  and  accepts  in 
accordance  with  a  desire  that  is  indeed  very  real,  but 
which  is  so  vaguely  denned  that  it  is  not  yet  a  suf- 
ficiently self-conscious  criterion  to  be  practically  and 
decisively  applied.  Thus  the  experimental  and  ten- 
tative character  of  American  social  reforms.  Ask 
any  cultured  American  what  the  ethical  ideal  of 
American  progress  is ;  he  will  very  likely  be  at  utter 
loss  for  an  answer.  Submit  to  him  the  various  pos- 
sible moral  ideals,  and  he  will  probably  not  know 
what  to  say.  He  is  not  accustomed  to  bringing  his 
ideals,  his  wants,  into  such  definite  consciousness, 
and  he  does  not  like  to  be  forced  to  the  issue. 

It  is  inevitable  that  an  age  of  moral  conflict  and 
skepticism  should  attain  its  hazardous  results  in  the 
regions  of  personal  righteousness.  To  put  the  mat- 
ter in  an  easy  way,  it  is  a  difficult  time  for  the  birth 
of  a  new  generation.  The  standards  of  the  home, 
even  the  criteria  for  the  rearing  of  children,  have 
broken  down.  The  leisure  occupations  of  youth, 
always  symptomatic  in  any  age,  are  not  only  nn- 
guidedly  and  frankly  hedonistic  but  across  the 
borders  of  what  was  once  considered  decorous ;  not 
because  of  a  new  and  liberalizing  moral  standard, 
as  is  sometimes  pretended,  but  because  of  the  lack 
of  any.  The  popularity  of  certain  recent  dances, 
formerly  forbidden  even  in  the  "red-light"  districts, 
is  typical.  So  is  much  of  our  periodical  reading 
matter  and  any  number  of  "movie"  plays,  over  the 

21 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

edge  of  the  decadently  erotic,  with  a  censorship  that 
does  not  censor  because  of  moral  and  financial  doubt. 
A  very  prominent  and  conservative  university  presi- 
dent recently  said  in  public  that  the  present  age  is 
the  most  decadent  in  history,  with  the  exception  of 
the  days  just  before  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Republic 
and  before  the  French  Revolution.  He  mentioned 
''dishonesty,  permeating  public  and  private  life 
alike,  tainting  the  administration  of  justice,  tainting 
our  legislative  halls,  tainting  the  conduct  of  private 
business,  polluting  at  times  even  the  church  itself." 
In  the  same  utterance  he  averred  that  "a  source  of 
infinite  evil  in  every  modern  society  is  impurity  of 
word  and  act."  He  went  on  to  assert  that  "if  there 
is  to  be  social  and  political  regeneration  in  our  Re- 
public and  in  the  rest  of  the  world,  it  must  be  by 
a  tremendous  regeneration  of  moral  ideals." 

Surely  such  a  regeneration  means  some  settlement 
of  the  present  conflict  of  moral  purposes.  It  means 
a  transition  from  moral  skepticism  to  a  reasonably 
founded  moral  faith.  The  social  reconstruction  of 
the  world  means  its  ethical  reconstruction.  Is  the 
problem  solvable?  Is  it  too  presumptuous  to  at- 
tempt it?  Is  there,  after  all,  any  absolute  distinction 
between  right  and  wrong  in  personal  and  social 
affairs?  If  so,  what  is  it?  Whatever  symptoms  of 
moral  distress  our  age  may  now  evince,  it  is  the 
supreme  business  of  reasonable  men  to  see  that,  "so 
far  as  the  intellectual  life  of  the  world  goes,  this 
present  time  is  essentially  the  opening  phase  of  a 

22 


THE  PRESENT  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS 

period  of  ethical  reconstruction,  a  reconstruction  of 
which  the  new  republic  will  possess  the  matured 
result."3 

Let  us  add  that  happy  is  the  civilization  that  pos- 
sesses within  it  great  contradictions, — if  it  can  solve 
them.  For  an  age  of  strenuous  contradictions  is  at 
least  not  stagnant;  it  is  aggressively  alive,  and  is  a 
sure  begetter  of  that  travail  of  thought  that  makes 
for  certain  progress.  The  restless  criticism  of  the 
Sophists  was  the  prelude  to  the  golden  age  of 
Greece.  It  was  only  when  the  long-secure  scholasti- 
cism of  the  Middle  Ages  culminated  in  sharp  contra- 
dictions between  reason  and  dogma,  between  science 
and  faith,  between  the  divine  order  and  the  human 
order,  that  there  emerged  the  triumphant  beginnings 
of  a  new  era,  issuing  at  last  in  a  new  humanism,  a 
new  transfiguration  of  the  world  in  the  name  of 
modern  art,  modern  philosophy,  and  modern  science. 
The  contradictions  of  our  own  day  may  mean  like- 
wise the  silent,  pervasive,  and  certain  advance  to- 
ward a  new  moral  order. 

•H.  G.  Wells,  Anticipations,  p.  311. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  SOLUTION  PEOPOSED 

SKEPTICISM,  moral  or  other,  is  the  result  of  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  thinking.  This  is  the  encouraging 
side  of  it.  It  betokens  a  relatively  advanced  stage 
of  civilization.  But  skepticism  is  never  the  last  word 
in  thinking.  It  is  only  one  of  the  steps  in  intellectual 
progress,  one  of  the  resting  places  along  the  high- 
way of  truth.  Skepticism  is  the  outcome  of  much 
thought;  but  it  is  likely  to  disappear  with  more 
thought. 

The  man  of  to-day  has  thought  just  enough  to 
see  the  fallacies  in  the  traditional  forms  of  what 
used  to  be  the  great  verities.  He  has  not  thought 
enough  to  see  that  these  great  verities  need  not  dis- 
appear merely  because  their  ancient  reasons  are 
faulty.  Above  all,  he  has  not  thought  enough  to 
adjust  these  verities  to  all  the  new  means  of  proof 
that  a  complete  logic  insists  upon  before  a  final 
judgment  is  made.  The  modern  man  has  thought 
enough  to  deny  great  things;  he  has  not  thought 
enough  to  affirm  great  things. 

The  thoughtful  man  of  to-day  cannot  remain  in 
pure  negation  or  doubt.  Several  years  ago  there 
was  a  popular  song  that  ran,  "I  don't  know  where 

24 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

I'm  going,  but  I'm  on  my  way."  Seated  at  night 
by  the  inn-fire,  foot-weary  with  futile  wanderings 
and  made  indifferent  to  fate  by  the  cheering  glass, 
one  may  sing  such  a  song  with  care-free  abandon ; 
but  it  is  no  challenge  to  hearten  a  valiant  soul  when 
the  sun  is  up  and  the  mind  is  clear  and  a  journey  lies 
beyond.  Then  one  demands  to  know  where  he  is 
going,  that  he  may  indeed  be  sure  that  he  is  on  his 
way. 


A  true  idealist  without  an  ideal  will  find  one.  The 
serious  citizen  of  our  civilization  will  not  everlast- 
ingly confront  a  multitude  of  contending  purposes 
with  hopeless  despair  or  with  supine  indifference. 
This  very  conflict  of  ideals  he  will  face  as  a  chal- 
lenging problem,  glad  that  the  race  has  come  to  the 
point  where  it  is  so  lustily  alive  as  to  have  such 
courageously  battling  purposes;  resolute,  however, 
in  his  insistence  that  the  conflict  shall  be  solved  and 
the  crooked  ways  made  straight.  That  a  great 
cataclysm  has  shaken  up  world-old  institutions  will 
not  breed  in  him  a  hopelessness  for  the  social  order ; 
rather  will  it  give  to  him  an  increased  optimism, 
born  of  the  new  consciousness  that,  after  all,  social 
traditions  are  not  so  stubborn  and  unchangeable  as 
they  seemed,  but  are  fully  capable  of  drastic  re- 
molding and  of  infinite  progress. 

It  is  our  purpose,  then,  resolutely  to  face  the  pres- 
ent conflict  of  ideals  and  to  seek  some  positive  solu- 

25 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

tion,  even  though  at  first  none  seems  obvious.  Let 
us  be  critical  and  cautious  by  all  means ;  but  let  us 
not  sin  against  logic  by  a  too  ready  capitulation  to 
final  doubt.  If  doubt  exists  as  the  avowed  enemy  of 
dogmatism,  it  is  also  true  that  the  worst  dogmatism 
occurs  when  doubt  itself  becomes  dogmatic. 

Abjuring  any  such  dogmatism,  we  discover  that 
in  our  moral  skepticism  we  have  been  guilty  of  sev- 
eral logical  errors.  First  of  all,  in  our  entire  atti- 
tude toward  the  question  of  whether  there  is  any 
absolute  moral  standard,  any  final  moral  ideal,  we 
have  been  making  an  astonishing  assumption,  which 
has  strangely  escaped  our  notice.  Let  us  see  what 
this  assumption  is.  Perhaps  if  we  once  drag  it  out 
into  the  open  light,  we  may  be  enabled  to  reach  some 
more  satisfactory  outcome  for  our  age  than  the  skep- 
ticism that  not  only  solves  no  problems,  but  allows 
them  to  fight  a  wayward  battle,  and  to  place  capri- 
cious hazards  against  progress. 

In  most  popular  arguments  against  the  possibility 
of  finding  an  absolute  moral  standard  it  is  tacitly 
assumed  that  the  conflicting  ideals  of  mankind  are 
inconsistent  with  one  another  and  exclude  one 
another.  It  is  taken  for  granted  that  we  are  obliged 
to  choose  just  one  of  them  as  true  and  abandon  all 
the  remainder  as  false.  If  this  were  really  the  situa- 
tion, any  choice  of  an  ideal  would  be  fatal,  for  it 
would  leave  out  many  others  worth  while.  Better 
skepticism  than  such  moral  narrowness.  It  is  but 
common  sense  to  hesitate  at  the  annihilation  of  all 

26 


A  SOLUTION  PKOPOSED 

but  one  of  the  many  ideals  of  life  that  have  been 
gained  by  the  hard-won  experience  of  the  race. 
Thus,  if  a  reasonable  man  were  asked  to  make  a 
rigidly  single  choice,  from  among  custom  and  con- 
science and  pleasure  and  asceticism  and  the  rest, 
of  a  final  and  never-to-be-changed  guide  to  life,  he 
would  end  in  pardonable  and  perpetual  doubt.  As 
we  have  seen,  this  is  where  reasonable  men  tend  to 
rest  to-day ;  but  it  is  through  a  misapprehension  of 
what  the  problem  really  is.  For  the  entire  question 
is  put  wrongly  when  it  is  asked,  "  Which  one  of  the 
scores  of  moral  standards  bequeathed  us  by  history 
is  the  right  oneT'  The  illuminating  truth  is  that 
any  workable  moral  criterion  whatever  involves 
every  one  of  the  rest,  as  a  matter  both  of  logic  and 
of  practical  experience.  All  conflicting  moral  ideals 
imply  a  moral  end  that  includes  them  all  and 
transcends  every  one  of  them.  And  this  all-inclusive 
moral  end  is  the  true  standard  of  right  and  wrong 
that  ever  remains  the  same  amid  all  moral  change. 
The  best  way  to  see  that  any  workable  moral  cri- 
terion involves  all  the  rest  is  to  consider  the  race's 
experience.  Moral  standards  change  with  history. 
This  is  indubitable.  But  when  a  new  moral  evalua- 
tion of  life  arises,  it  never  means  the  utter  abandon- 
ment of  the  old  standards.  Moral  change  occurs 
not  because  the  old  moral  ideas  were  worthless,  but 
because  they  were  merely  a  part  of  the  whole  truth, 
however  necessary  a  part.  What  in  history  seems  a 
panorama  of  successive  views  of  life  supplanting 

27 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

one  another  is  in  reality  a  progress,  a  growth,  so 
that  what  was  grows  into  what  is,  as  the  bud  grows 
into  the  blossom.  The  blossom  does  not  supplant 
the  bud ;  it  is  the  bud  come  to  its  fullness.  The  his- 
toric shifting  of  moral  ideals,  so  productive  of 
skepticism,  is  in  reality  only  reasonable  moral  ex- 
pansion. Through  the  centuries  each  moral  ideal 
annuls  not  all  the  rest,  but  gives  genesis  to  all  the 
rest,  one  by  one,  to  complete  it.  Ours  is  an  age  of 
moral  conflict  just  because  of  this  fact;  each  ideal 
does  not  discourage,  but  stimulates  into  life  the  host 
of  its  fellows.  The  conflict  becomes  baffling  only 
because  men:  will  not  see  that  these  ideals  are  not 
merely  contending  with  one  another,  but  are  strenu- 
ously calling  out  for  one  another,  pleading  not  to  be 
singled  out,  but  to  be  reconciled  and  harmonized 
with  one  another. 

While  the  puzzling  succession  of  moral  standards 
in  history  is  to  be  interpreted  as  really  progress 
toward  a  larger  and  larger  inclusiveness  that  finally 
embraces  all  of  them,  it  is  not  progress  in  a  straight 
line.  There  are  many  curves  and  retrogressions  in 
it.  This  is  why  the  progress  is  so  difficult  to  discern 
at  a  first  glance.  But  the  progress  is  there,  and 
the  truth  that  each  conception  of  life  implies  all  the 
rest  to  complete  it  is  fully  attested  over  and  over 
again,  not  only  by  the  historical  vicissitudes  of  rival 
theories,  but  by  the  concrete  events  that  make  and 
unmake  civilizations.  And  now,  since  this  is  the 
introductory  truth  necessary  for  any  ethical  recon- 

28 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

struction  of  our  age,  let  us  be  sure  of  it  by  looking 
for  a  moment  at  the  moral  fortunes  of  the  past. 
These  fortunes  rehearse  the  progress  of  every  man 
in  his  search  for  the  standard  of  righteousness. 


n 

Custom  is  one  of  the  initial  ways  by  which  men 
determine  what  is  right.  Gradually  they  formu- 
late the  more  imperative  edicts  of  custom,  into 

popular  precepts  and  proverbs,  which  become  much 
more  helpful  than  unwritten  custom  alone.  But  note 
that  such  precepts  and  proverbs  do  not  by  any  means 
supplant  custom;  they  are  custom,  now  made  into 
sayings  that  people  can  repeat  to  each  other. 

But  the  evolution  does  not  stop  just  here.  There 
are  so  many  precepts  concerning  all  sorts  of  sub- 
jects! Some  are  not  so  important  as  others;  some 
are  repetitions  of  others  in  a  different  form;  some 
actually  conflict  with  others.  The  next  step  in  the 
search  for  a  moral  guide  is  to  reduce  these  many 
precepts  about  right  and  wrong  to  a  relatively  short 
list  of  fundamental  rules,  with  some  pretense  to  a 
coherence  and  completeness  such  as  a  loose  multi- 
tude of  sayings  never  possesses.  The  Ten  Com- 
mandments give  us  a  conspicuous  example  of  a  list 
of  this  kind.  So  also  does  the  list  of  the  four  salient 
virtues  approved  by  the  Greeks, — "Wisdom,  Courage, 
Temperance,  and  Justice.  But  again,  these  more 
systematic  guides  to  living  do  not  really  defy  or 

29 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

supplant  the  best  traditions  of  custom  or  the  pre- 
cepts of  the  fathers.  Kather  are  they  the  best  of 
these  same  customs  and  precepts,  put  into  more  defi- 
nite form,  so  that  they  may  be  more  practically 
useful. 

Custom,  then  precept,  then  systematized  codes, — 
three  apparently  different  moral  standards;  yet, 
actually,  they  do  not  conflict  with  one  another. 
Each,  properly  seen,  is  an  interpretation  of  and  a 
supplementing  strength  to  the  other  two. 

It  soon  appears,  however,  that  neither  the  race 
nor  the  individual  can  rest  even  in  such  a  list  of 
rules,  no  matter  how  excellent,  as  an  adequate  way 
to  distinguish  between  right  and  wrong  and  .to  meet 
all  life's  moral  perplexities.  A  set  of  command- 
ments is  ever  of  value,  but  it  is  not  enough.  The 
founder  of  Christianity,  for  instance,  did  not  con- 
ceive a  list  of  rules  to  be  a  sufficient  guide  for  life, 
else  his  own  ethical  message  would  have  been  super- 
fluous. He  supplemented  the  Decalogue  by  a  new 
commandment,  which  utterly  transfigures  it.  For 
a  mere  set  of  commandments  is  much  too  simple  for 
life's  infinite  variety.  To  try  to  apply  it  as  a  suf- 
ficient solution  of  the  endless  moral  problems  that 
confront  the  earnest  soul  is,  in  phrases  of  Walt 
Whitman,  like  sweeping  one's  orbit  with  a  carpen- 
ter's compass,  or  like  measuring  the  infinite  with  a 
yardstick. 

A  great  deal  of  the  moral  skepticism  of  our  own 
day  is  an  encouraging  recognition  of  this  very  fact. 

30 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

To  many  people  it  seems  to  mean,  further,  that 
there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  an  absolute  standard 
of  morals.  But  this  is  not  what  it  needs  to  mean. 
All  that  it  really  signifies  is  that  one  cannot  rely 
upon  sets  of  moral  rules  taken  just  by  themselves. 

What  else  is  needed? 

It  is  noteworthy  that  a  set  of  rules  for  moral  con- 
duct never  explicitly  gives  a  vision  of  what  the  goal 
of  all  moral  conduct  is,  of  what  is  the  true  end  of 
society  and  of  the  individual;  and  yet  it  certainly 
implies  such  a  vision.  Thus,  when  Plato  reflects 
upon  the  Grecian  code  .of  Wisdom,  Courage,  Tem- 
perance, and  Justice,  he  discovers  that  to  make  these 
virtues  reasonable  they  must  be  related  to  an  ideal 
toward  which  they  are  the  means, — the  ideal  Grecian 
man  and  the  ideal  Grecian  state,  so  eloquently  por- 
trayed in  the  Republic.  So,  I  doubt  not  that  if  one 
would  understand  the  Ten  Commandments  of  the 
Hebrews  and  would  make  them  efficient,  one  must 
have  in  one's  mind  the  picture  of  the  ideal  Hebrew, 
doing  justice,  loving  mercy,  and  walking  humbly  be- 
fore his  God;  for  whose  moral  progress  the  com- 
mandments were  essential  guideposts  on  his  way. 
Essential,  but  not  sufficient.  Rightly  to  interpret 
them,  yea,  to  have  the  courage  to  pursue  the  long, 
hard  journey,  the  traveler  must  have  a  glimpse  of 
the  end  he  seeks  through  them. 

Thus,  every  significant  set  of  moral  rules  involves 
an  end  to  be  attained  by  them ;  and  if  we  could  know 
this  end  in  the  case  of  any  such  set  of  moral  com- 

31 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

mands,  they  would  at  once  become  convincing  in 
terms  of  the  vision  out  of  which  they  arose  in  the 
first  place.  In  the  light  of  this  same  vision  their 
meaning  would  be  defined,  their  contradictions 
solved,  and  their  incompleteness  continually  recti- 
fied. Further,  this  end  would  become  the  true  cri- 
terion of  moral  conduct,  better  capable  of  adapting 
itself  successfully  to  the  infinite  variety  of  experi- 
ence. For  if  one  knows  the  goal  of  all  his  striving, 
the  problem  of  what  to  do  in  a  given  situation  is 
reduced  to  determining  whether  this  act  or  that  will 
lead  to  this  goal.  It  may  be  difficult  enough  to  decide 
even  then;  but  the  wisdom  required  is  an  ever- 
growing wisdom  and  need  not  involve  one  in  hope- 
less contradictions.  Now,  finding  this  end  does  not 
do  away  with  sets  of  rules ;  it  only  makes  them  rea- 
sonable, possible  of  interpretation,  and  for  the  first 
time  truly  serviceable.  Again,  we  have  no  super- 
seding of  one  standard  by  another,  but  moral 
growth;  no  conflict  that  need  bring  skepticism,  but 
moral  development  that  strengthens  moral  confi- 
dence. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  search  for  the  true  moral 
standard  is  really  a  search  for  the  chief  end  of  man 
and  of  his  social  institutions.  It  is  here  that  we 
meet  with  the  sort  of  moral  conflict  and  skepticism 
that  especially  characterize  our  times.  There  are 
so  many  possible  ends!  We  have  mentioned  some 
of  them.  There  are  those  who  hold  that  the  end  of 
life  is  the  pleasure  of  the  individual ;  those  who  hold 

32 


that  it  is  the  happiness  of  the  greatest  number; 
those  who  insist  that  it  is  in  cultivating  rational 
thought  that  a  man  comes  to  his  complete  perfection ; 
those  who  are  sure  that  it  is  the  glorification  of 
the  will  that  we  seek;  those  who  erect  an  end  of  self- 
abnegation  and  self -annulment,  with  the  one  affirma- 
tive hope  of  being  lost  in  God ;  and  those  who  divine 
that  the  dream  of  life  should  be  Beauty.  And  there 
are  others.  How  shall  we  determine  amid  this  maze 
of  dreams  which  ideal  is  the  right  one? 

Well,  we  have  made  the  assertion  that  all  these 
conflicting  ideals  imply  one  another.  They  do. 
Their  logic  insists  upon  it  and  history  confirms  it. 
See  if  this  is  not  so.  In  the  previous  chapter  we 
have  already  stressed  two  conspicuous  contradic- 
tions in  current  life;  that  between  hedonism  and 
self-sacrifice  on  the  one  hand,  and  that  between 
society  and  the  individual  on  the  other.  It  is  well  to 
revert  to  them  now  and  to  show  how  temporary  and 
shallow  these  contradictions  really  are  when  viewed 
in  the  light  of  an  all-inclusive  moral  end. 

in 

First,  the  contradiction  between  the  life  of  pleas- 
ure and  the  life  of  sacrifice.  There  is  always  the 
Puritan  and  the  Pagan,  and  to  conciliate  them  is 
no  easy  problem.  Yet  conciliate  them  we  must,  and 
this  side  the  grave,  or  human  nature  is  hopelessly 
at  war  with  itself.  To  conciliate  them  as  does 

33 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

Bomero  in  the  light  opera,  The  Serenade,  by  grati- 
fying the  flesh  one  day  and  by  mortifying  it  the  next, 
is  precisely  the  absurdity  that  the  spectators  of  light 
opera  know  it  to  be.  Hedonism  and  sacrifice  will 
always  war  with  one  another  so  long  as  a  narrow 
and  insufficient  view  of  either  is  assumed  as  a  work- 
ing basis  of  life.  And  this  narrow  view  is  the  one 
that  has  ever  been  assumed  wherever  the  conflict  has 
occurred. 

Thus,  the  spirit  of  asceticism  in  its  narrower 
guise  has  tried  to  banish  all  pleasure  from  the  world 
and  has  strangely  supposed  that  there  is  actual  merit 
in  sacrifice  for  its  own  sake.  The  fact  that  renounce- 
ment and  sacrifice  are  characteristic  of  all  religions 
has  helped  most  to  make  current  this  conception. 
Thus,  it  has  been  an  approved  custom  to  murder  the 
beauty  of  this  world  by  making  duty  seem  as  unat- 
tractive as  possible.  Merit  is  supposed  to  accrue 
from  doing  what  one  does  not  want  to  do,  just  be- 
cause one  does  not  want  to  do  it;  to  be  happy  is 
probably  to  be  sinful.  Macaulay  records  that  to  the 
Puritans  ' '  it  was  a  sin  to  hang  garlands  on  a  May- 
pole, to  drink  a  friend's  health,  to  fly  a  hawk,  to 
hunt  a  stag,  to  play  at  chess,  to  wear  lovelocks,  to 
put  starch  into  a  ruff,  to  touch  the  virginals,  to  read 
The  Faerie  Queene." 

Likewise,  pleasure  has  been  sought  as  though  it 
were  really  something  one  values  just  because  it  is 
pleasant,  not  because  it  is  pleasure  in  achievements 
worth  while.  Yet,  ever  standing  above  mere  pleas- 

34 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

ure  is  a  moral  judgment,  which  assures  us  that  no 
matter  how  pleasant,  some  pleasures  are  relatively 
worthless ;  that  our  prime  pursuit  is  not  pleasure  at 
all,  but  ideals  which,  nevertheless,  yield  the  pleasure 
worthy  of  a  human  being,  the  only  pleasure  that 
abides.  Indeed,  seek  pleasure  as  if  it  were  the  only 
ideal  in  life  and  you  never  achieve  it ;  it  eludes  you. 
The  saddest  and  most  jaded  being  on  this  earth  is 
the  professional  pleasure-seeker.  The  life  of  pleas- 
ure, as  in  the  case  of  Faust,  comes  upon  its  own 
tragic  self-defeat.  Everybody  knows  that  the  psy- 
chology of  pleasure  begets  a  " hedonistic  paradox"; 
"to  get  pleasure,  one  must  forget  it."  And  to  get 
it,  one  must  forget  it  in  terms  of  the  adoption  of 
an  ideal  of  self-realization  which  does  no  violence 
to  any  region  of  self-development.  A  life  of 
pleasure-seeking  is  anomalous  and,  in  its  degenera- 
tion into  selfishness  and  aimlessness  and  finally 
boredom,  it  is  on  its  logical  way  to  one  of  two  things, 
the  destruction  of  the  seeker,  or  the  abandonment 
of  the  search.  Thus  it  is  that,  historically,  hedonistic 
theories  have  always  developed  out  of  themselves 
into  more  adequate  views  of  life,  and  this  according 
to  the  measure  of  their  self-consciousness.  And 
hedonistic  civilizations  have  either  been  destroyed 
or  have  grown  into  civilizations  of  a  larger  creed. 

Life  is  a  struggle  for  a  moral  goal  whose  every 
achievement  gives  pleasure,  and  yet  whose  every 
step  means  something,  too,  of  the  positive  pain  of 
sacrifice.  The  heaven  of  true  pleasure  is  worth 

35 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

suffering  for,  worth  even  dying  for  under  the  excep- 
tional circumstances  that  life  sometimes  affords. 
Martyrdom  for  its  own  sake  were  foolish ;  but  mar- 
tyrdom for  the  sake  of  something  better  than 
martyrdom  is  ever  heroic.  Indeed,  one  may  well 
suspect  himself  if  his  ideals  are  not  such  as  to  cause 
constant  sacrifice;  for  the  fight  for  the  moral  order 
means  heroic  choices,  and  so  abnegation ;  it  is  verily 
a  fight  that  brings  its  glorious  wounds.  The  lives 
of  all  we  laud  as  great  are  filled  with  renouncements. 
The  meaning  of  both  pleasure  and  sacrifice  emerge 
only  from  and  are  conciliated  in  the  adequate  under- 
standing of  the  moral  struggle  for  the  ideal.  We 
then  come  upon  a  life  which  is  neither  traditional 
pleasure-seeking  nor  traditional  asceticism ;  a  life  in 
harmony  with  heroic  renouncement  and  interpretive 
of  its  significance.  Each  without  the  other  con- 
tradicts not  only  the  other,  but  itself.  The  contra- 
diction is  at  last  solved  and  each  side  of  the 
contradiction  measurelessly  enriched.  Our  nature 
is  not  divided  against  itself,  nor  is  our  civilization. 
If  the  Pagan  and  the  Puritan  are  not  happy  with 
each  other,  they  are  still  more  unhappy  without  each 
other.  In  terms  of  the  Joyous  Sacrifice  it  is  that 
they  are  redefined  within  us  and  given  not  only  one 
body,  but  one  soul.  The  Pagan  gives  the  Puritan 
the  art  treasures  of  the  world ;  the  love  of  nature ; 
music;  joy  of  living;  health  of  body  and  mind.  The 
Puritan  gives  the  Pagan  the  moral  inspiration;  the 
far  ideal.  The  Puritan  is  the  thorny  stem,  the  Pagan 

36 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

the  rose  and  the  perfume  of  the  rose.  The  Puritan 
is  the  solemn  forest,  the  Pagan  the  birds  of  song 
and  the  sunshine  through  the  trees.  Standing  reso- 
lutely for  this  new  and  rational  fullness  of  life,  the 
moral  order  is  no  longer  joyless,  nor  is  its  heaven 
a  heaven  of  such  soft  bliss  as  heroes  spurn.  It  solves 
the  warfare  between  hedonism  and  asceticism  and 
merges  them  in  a  new  faith  in  a  life  where  each  finds 
its  transfigured  place. 

IV 

So  with  the  acute  contradiction  now  current  be- 
tween those  who  hold  that  the  moral  goal  has  to  do 
ultimately  with  the  individual  and  those  who  hold 
that  it  has  to  do  rather  with  society.  It  is  solved 
by  recognizing  that,  as  in  the  case  of  hedonism  and 
sacrifice,  each  involves  the  other  in  a  larger  ideal 
than  either  is  by  itself.  There  will  be  no  solution 
of  this  current  conflict  so  long  as  we  suppose  society 
to  be  one  thing  and  the  individual  quite  another. 
Once  one  separates  these  two,  one  never  can  get 
them  together  again.  The  individual  is  nothing  by 
himself,  and  society  is  nothing  by  itself.  The  goal 
of  human  progress  is  not  society  in  the  abstract  at 
the  expense  of  the  individual,  for  such  an  abstrac- 
tion simply  does  not  exist,  save  as  an  abstraction. 
A  society  that  annuls  the  individuals  that  make  it 
possible  annuls  itself,  as  history  well  attests.  Nor 
is  the  goal  of  progress  the  self-realization  of  each 

37 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

individual  at  the  expense  of  and  abstracted  from 
society;  for  neither  does  there  exist  such  an  ab- 
stracted individual.  A  rational  moral  order  an- 
nounces that  the  end  of  human  endeavor  is  neither 
the  individual  nor  society,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
it  is  both.  It  means  the  realization  of  the  individual 
through  society  and  of  society  through  the  indi- 
vidual ;  the  welfare  of  neither  can  be  sundered  from 
that  of  the  other.  Such  a  moral  order  proclaims 
that  personality  is  first  of  all  a  social  conception. 
And  since  men  are  inalienably  social,  their  social 
rights  are  not  artificial,  but  are  themselves  inalien- 
able, as  are  their  social  obligations.  Where  do  I 
end?  With  my  own  consciousness,  apart  from  the 
being  of  others  ?  But  this  is  a  psychological  absurd- 
ity. For  my  consciousness  of  myself  is  my  con- 
sciousness of  a  self  in  terms  of  others;  take  away 
from  me  my  relatives,  my  friends,  my  community, 
my  state,  my  nation,  with  all  that  these  mean,  and 
what  sort  of  self  have  I  left?  My  consciousness  is 
social.  But,  objects  some  one,  while  it  is  true  that 
I  am  social,  I  care  for  society  only  as  it  brings  me 
returns;  so  that  I  am  only  a  selfish  individualist 
after  all,  and  I  may  as  well  acknowledge  it.  When 
I  give  aid  to  the  mendicant,  I  do  it  not  because  I 
have  any  primary  social  impulse,  but  because  it 
gives  me  a  selfish  thrill  of  satisfaction.  I  rejoin, 
if  you  have  no  direct  interest  in  your  mendicant  for 
his  own  sake,  why  do  you  find  any  pleasure  in  help- 
ing him?  If  you  had  no  such  direct  interest,  it 

38 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

would  never  give  you  pleasure  to  see  him  benefited. 
If  you  are  selfish,  it  is  in  the  sense  of  having  a  natu- 
ral and  direct  regard  for  a  larger  self  that  includes 
your  fellow  men,  as  well  as  that  regard  for  the 
narrower,  abstracted  self  of  the  individualist, 
which,  when  exclusive,  is  the  common  meaning  of 
selfishness  in  the  opprobrious  sense. 

Thus,  rightly  seen,  the  individual  is  an  expression 
of  the  social  whole,  and  the  social  whole  is  part  of 
the  ideal  of  each  individual.  For  the  individual  is 
what  he  is  only  as  inclusive  of  all,  in  his  aim,  in  Ms 
life.  And  every  other  individual  is  equally  inclu- 
sive. Society  is  an  interinclusion  of  individuals, 
each  of  whom  reflects  society's  total  reality  in  him- 
self. The  moral  law  is  as  Kipling's  Law  of  the 
Jungle : 

As  the  Creeper  that  circles  the  tree-trunk,  so  the  law  run- 
neth forward  and  back ; 

For  the  strength  of  the  Pack  is  the  Wolf,  and  the  strength 
of  the  Wolf  is  the  Pack. 

The  " self-dependence "  of  Matthew  Arnold's  famous 
poem  of  that  title,  if  taken  literally,  contradicts 
every  moral  instinct.  Such  a  self-dependence  is 
downright,  unreflecting,  and  self-refuting  selfish- 
ness. Those  aware  of  the  true  nature  of  the  moral 
ideal  cannot  desire  to  be,  like  the  stars, 

Bounded  by  themselves,  and  unobservant 
In  what  state  God's  other  works  may  be. 

True,  we  of  the  Occident  have  always  boasted  of  our 

39 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

independence.  It  has  been  the  slogan  of  democracy. 
But  whatever  this  independence  may  have  meant 
once,  we  now  know  well  enough  that  it  cannot  mean 
the  self-sufficiency  of  the  individual  or  group.  Only 
recently  have  the  masses  of  men  become  highly 
aware  of  their  dependence  upon  the  social  system 
for  all  that  makes  their  lives  worth  while.  "What  was 
a  fact  before  the  World  War  has  now  become  con- 
scious ;  namely,  that  the  fortunes  of  the  world  have 
become  so  unified  that  what  happens  in  Cathay  is 
no  longer  a  matter  of  indifference  to  Europe, — not 
even  to  America;  and  that  one  can  no  longer  choose 
between  the  cycles  of  the  former  and  the  years  of 
the  latter.  The  commercial  interests  of  the  earth 
are  bound  together  in  a  bewildering  nexus  of  rela- 
tions, and  the  division  of  labor  has  made  the  indi- 
vidual's right  to  life  merely  a  right  to  ask  it  from 
his  fellows,  and  the  right  to  insure  it  by  proving  his 
indispensability  to  them.  Our  dearest  pleasures  are 
socialized;  they  depend  upon  social  expedients  of 
clubs  and  the  theaters  and  art  galleries  and  organ- 
ized sports.  The  intellectual  worker  no  longer 
immures  himself  from  the  world  in  his  upper  cham- 
ber. The  scientist  of  America  cooperates  with  his 
colleague  of  the  Continent;  and  nearly  every  mod- 
ern scientific  achievement  is  a  joint  product.  The 
individual  shuts  the  door  to  the  best  means  of 
modern  culture  the  moment  he  denies  the  social 
institution  of  education;  and  his  religious  aspira- 
tions, much  more  his  religious  deeds,  call  for  the 

40 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

stimulation  and  confirmation  of  other  seekers  after 
the  power  that  makes  for  righteousness.  The  inde- 
pendence of  the  prophet  in  the  wilderness  was  heroic 
once ;  but  it  is  an  anachronism  now,  and  is  no  longer 
even  heroic. 

Although  the  growing  consciousness  of  this  social 
dependence  accentuates  the  individual's  feeling  of 
helplessness  and  often  aggravates  his  social  rebel- 
lion, all  the  more  modern  struggles  for  independ- 
ence, so  far  as  they  have  succeeded,  have  been 
struggles  of  the  individual  not  to  free  nimself  from 
men,  but  to  get  his  rational  desires  in  terms  of  a 
vital  relation  to  the  sort  of  society  that  will  guaran- 
tee them  to  each  and  all.  Thus,  increased  individual 
liberty,  paradoxically  enough,  means  increased 
social  control.  Lately,  our  own  government  has 
assumed  social  controls  unthinkable  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  democracy,  when  they  would  have  been 
thought  of  as  seriously  and  fatally  interfering  with 
individual  rights.  For  the  sake  of  himself,  the  indi- 
vidual has  initiated  more  and  more  social  con- 
straints ;  and  the  functions  of  government  have  been 
incredibly  enlarged,  including  regulations  for  the 
public  health,  the  establishment  of  employment 
bureaus,  community  service,  and,  in  general,  a  new 
ideal  of  centralized  and  specialized  leadership.  This 
social  control  came  into  its  own  during  the  World 
War;  but  it  is  not  merely  a  temporary  matter.  It  is 
the  beginning  of  a  new  expression  of  the  conciliation 
of  individual  rights  and  social  obligations. 

41 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

It  is  this  idea  of  the  human  self  as  fundamentally 
social  by  nature,  together  with  a  deeper  study  of 
the  practical  implications  of  it  in  the  remolding 
of  human  institutions,  that  will  bring  civilization 
forward  to  its  next  stage.  In  the  new  Social  Indi- 
vidual, fully  conscious  of  his  significance,  the  con- 
tradiction between  the  individual  and  society  is 
solved,  and  each  side  of  the  contradiction  is  infinitely 
enriched.  The  ''great"  men  and  women  are  to  be 
such  Social  Individuals.  They  will  violate  the  social 
order  never,  even  for  " conscience's  sake,"  any  more 
than  Socrates,  with  the  integrity  of  the  state  at 
heart,  would  break  the  law  in  order  to  escape  from 
his  prison.  Their  function  it  is  to  ask,  as  did  Soc- 
rates, better  things,  larger  things  of  society  than 
can  yet  be  granted,  in  order  that  the  individual  of 
the  future,  through  a  larger  social  chance,  may  grow 
to  the  stature  of  this  same  greatness.  The  most 
far-reaching  good  that  higher  education  can  do  for 
our  society  is  to  produce  such  men  and  women; 
men  and  women  who  are  committed  heart  and  soul 
to  the  social  task  of  democracy,  and  who  will  dare 
to  become  the  practical  prophets  of  its  progress, 
the  veritable  eyes  and  hands  of  its  hope. 


But  suppose  that  these  illustrative  contradictions 
between  pleasure  and  sacrifice,  between  society  and 
the  individual,  are  solved.  Even  then  our  problem 

42 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

is  only  incompletely  met.  For  pleasure,  even  if  it  be 
thoroughly  socialized  and  gained  by  whatever  sacri- 
fice and  toil,  is  not  the  whole  of  life.  For  we*  live 
not  only  a  life  of  feeling,  but  a  life  of  reason.  The 
Bationalist  has  his  rights,  founded  just  as  surely  in 
the  aspirations  of  human  nature.  But  what  of  that? 
It  is  not  illogical,  is  it,  to  find  reason  as  well  as 
pleasure  in  life?  Why  call  them  conflicting  ideals? 
One  may  have  both.  Indeed,  one  must  have  both  to 
have  either.  Irrational  pleasure  brings  pain,  and 
rationality  that  leads  to  permanent  unhappiness  is 
immediately  subject  to  suspicion.  There  is  no  real 
conflict. 

Likewise,  we  not  only  reason  and  feel,  but  we  act; 
we  live  in  a  realm  of  desires  and  deeds,  summed  in 
what  we  call  ''will."  And  the  will  can  have  its 
rights  without  excluding  reason  and  feeling.  In- 
deed, it  must  be  a  rational  will  to  be  effective ;  and 
so  must  it  be  a  pleasurable  will,  or  it  will  not  act  at 
all.  And  the  dream  of  Beauty  can  be  easily  har- 
monized with  these  other  dreams  of  the  spirit ;  every 
ideal  calls  for  life  in  its  beauty  as  well  as  for  life 
in  its  happiness  and  life  in  its  truth.  Nor  need 
conscience  lose  its  value  even  though  it  is  never 
enough,  taken  alone.  Conscience  itself  must  ever  be 
educated  by  all  these  idealistic  factors  that  make 
for  completeness.  Never  are  its  mandates  infallible. 
Always  are  they  helpfully  suggestive,  and  often,  in 
moral  crises,  if  trained  to  sound  judgment,  they  rise 
to  the  emergency  with  quick  and  accurate  decision. 

43 


These  are  merely  hints  of  what  it  would  require 
many  pages  to  develop  fully.  But  enough  has  been 
said  to  suggest  that  what  appears  to  be  a  hopeless 
conflict  of  moral  ideals  is  not  so  hopeless  as  it  seems 
and  that,  with  their  conciliation,  moral  skepticism 
is  insufficiently  founded.  But  now  the  great  and 
final  question  remains.  If  no  one  of  these  ideals, 
taken  by  itself,  is  the  correct  one,  just  what  is  that 
moral  end  which,  as  we  have  alleged,  includes  them 
all  and  transcends  every  one  of  them?  What  is  that 
all-embracing  moral  goal  which  is  the  true  standard 
and  which  ever  remains  the  same  amid  all  moral 
change  ? 

For  the  answer  to  this  question,  let  us  look  within 
ourselves.  Let  us  begin  with  common,  everyday 
things  that  we  all  desire  and  are  willing  to  struggle 
for.  Food  is  one  of  the  most  common  of  these  ob- 
jects of  desire.  Why  do  I  seek  it  as  a  momentary 
goal  of  my  efforts?  Certainly,  the  reason  is  not  a 
capricious  one ;  the  desire  for  food  is  founded  upon 
my  fundamental  human  needs.  I  desire  also  pure 
air  to  breathe.  Neither  is  this  desire  capricious; 
it,  too,  is  an  expression  of  my  needs  as  a  human 
being  with  just  this  human  constitution  and  its  de- 
mands for  the  conditions  of  its  existence.  Both 
food  and  air  are  among  the  fundamental  desires  of 
the  bodily  life.  There  are  many  other  such  desires, 
and  they  all  must  be  satisfied  if  life  is  to  continue 
in  the  fullness  of  its  possibilities. 

Food  and  air  are  humble  enough  ideals  j  they  are 

44 


not  the  ultimate  ends  of  our  existence.  And  yet 
what  is  true  of  them  is  true  of  all  our  ideals,  even 
those  supreme  ideals  that  we  dignify  by  the  name  of 
moral.  Such  ideals  too,  in  so  far  as  they  are  per- 
sistent, are  born  of  our  fundamental  human  desires 
which,  in  turn,  are  expressions  of  our  fundamental 
needs  and  capacities.  * '  The  impulse  which  stirs  the 
inmost  depth  of  heart  is  the  Real  of  us  seeking  ex- 
pression." Our  ideals  are  our  needs  objectified. 
As  in  the  case  of  the  body,  so  with  the  mind  or 
spirit;  there  are  many  such  desires  and,  therefore, 
many  purposes  and  ideals.  And  again,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  body,  if  we  choose  the  satisfaction  of 
only  one  of  these  desires  or  of  a  group  of  them, 
the  other  suppressed  desires  are  forever  forcing 
themselves  upon  our  attention.  Suppose  one's  body 
should  say,  "I  want  food  to  eat  and  I  also  want  air 
to  breathe ;  I  will  choose  the  food  and  suppress  the 
desire  for  air."  The  result  of  such  physiological 
idiocy  would  be  death.  The  result  of  such  moral 
folly  among  the  ideals  of  the  spirit  is  death  also, — 
moral  death,  or  a  stultified  narrowing  of  moral  life. 
Fortunately  such  moral  narrowness  is  never  per- 
manently satisfactory  to  any  of  us.  For  the  one 
fundamental  desire  of  every  human  being  is  that 
every  one  of  the  persistent  desires  of  the  spirit  be 
fulfilled,  so  far  as  this  is  possible.  So  the  really 
fundamental  ideal  of  every  human  being — that 
which  he  ever  unconsciously  seeks — is  that  large  and 
complete  ideal  which  will  conciliate  the  greatest 

45 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

number  of  such  ideals  as  are  only  partial  expres- 
sions of  his  spirit's  needs.  It  is  hard  to  give  a  name 
not  misleading  to  this  all-inclusive  end  of  human 
search.  The  naming  of  it  is  not  the  main  thing. 
It  might  be  called  Total  Self-realization.  But  what- 
ever it  is  called,  it  will  include  all  the  conflicting 
moral  ideals  that  we  have  so  far  passed  in  review. 
The  supreme  office  of  reason  is  to  harmonize  and 
adjust  them. 

But  some  one  may  object,  why  pay  any  attention 
to  our  desires  at  all,  as  if  they  had  a  right  to  dictate 
what  our  moral  concerns  shall  be  ?  Has  it  not  been 
one  of  the  high  traditions  of  the  moral  life  that  often 
one  must  act  not  in  accordance  with  one's  desires, 
but  in  a  noble  defiance  of  them?  Is  not  our  duty 
most  frequently  the  performance  of  precisely  what 
we  do  not  desire  to  do? 

The  wholly  adequate  answer  is  that  we  simply 
must  pay  moral  attention  to  our  fundamental  de- 
sires, not  only  because  they  are  the  expressions  of 
our  permanent  needs,  but  because  we  cannot  rid 
ourselves  of  them  even  if  we  would.  This  is  the 
basic  fact  of  our  human  consciousness.  Indeed,  one 
would  not  find  it  difficult  to  argue  that  the  entire 
evolution  of  mind  proceeds  through  the  persistent 
urge  of  its  inalienable  desires.  One  cannot  rid  him- 
self of  such  desires ;  nor  can  he  successfully  enslave 
them,  as  some  moralists  have  tried  to  do.  Why, 
we  cannot  even  fight  our  desires  unless  we  first 
have  a  desire  to  do  so !  We  cannot  seek  an  end  that 

46 


A  SOLUTION  PROPOSED 

some  desire  does  not  dictate,  even  if  it  is  the  desire 
to  have  no  desires  at  all.  True,  duty  often  appears 
to  be  the  doing  of  what  we  do  not  desire  to  do ;  but 
this  is  only  because  the  desire  to  do  our  duty  is  in 
conflict  with  other  desires  that  momentarily  fight 
back.  No  human  being  would  have  the  least  power 
to  do  his  duty  if  he  actually  did  not  desire  to  do 
it,  all  things  considered ;  if,  indeed,  he  did  not  desire 
it  so  strongly  as  to  overcome  all  desires  to  the 
contrary ! 

No,  our  human  nature  will  not  rest  in  any  moral 
purpose  that  is  not  large  enough  to  give  some  hope 
to  every  one  of  our  human  needs.  A  total  self  de- 
mands nothing  less  than  total  self-realization. 
Sensible  moral  discipline  is  not  the  annulling  of 
any  of  our  really  fundamental  wants,  but  the 
subordinating  of  them  to  their  rightful  place  in  the 
moral  economy. 

VI 

The  objection  may  be  raised  that  such  a  moral 
goal  is  so  far  but  vaguely  defined.  But  suppose  the 
truth  happens  to  be  that  the  ideal  self  and  the  ideal 
society  that  we  seek  simply  cannot  be  defined  in 
its  fullness?  That  it  can  be  drawn  only  in  bold 
outlines?  Suppose  that  the  most  illuminating  moral 
truth  of  all  is  that  a  serious  aspect  of  our  growth 
toward  the  ideal  is  the  ever-increasing  knowledge 
of  the  ideal  itself?  This  is,  indeed,  the  fact.  Our 

47 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

moral  deeds  toward  the  goal  of  progress  include  tlie 
slow  achievement  of  increasingly  definite  thoughts 
concerning  it.  If  our  knowledge  is  at  no  time  com- 
plete, still,  as  Locke  once  put  it,  the  light  of  our 
candle  is  enough  for  the  next  step ;  and  the  next  step 
carries  our  candle  forward,  making  possible  still 
further  vision.  Such  partial  definiteness  as  we  pos- 
sess at  any  given  stage  of  the  journey  presents  no 
warrant  for  moral  skepticism,  but  only  for  moral 
caution.  The  ultimate  thing  is  certain  enough.  The 
all-embracing  end  of  moral  struggle  is  no  mere 
guess.  Its  application  as  a  moral  criterion  is  not 
easy;  but  the  moral  struggle  has  never  been  and 
never  will  be  easy.  This  is  why  one  of  the  indis- 
pensable moral  virtues  is  courage. 

Furthermore,  the  difficulty  about  the  vagueness 
of  moral  ideals  is  more  theoretical  than  practical. 
For  if  each  of  our  fundamental  ideals  really  implies 
all  the  rest,  one  may  seek  any  one  of  them  loyally 
and  rationally  and  be  assured  that  he  will  find 
himself  gradually  embracing  them  all  in  his  growth. 
Which  one  any  given  person  shall  lay  emphasis  upon 
at  first  depends  largely  upon  his  temperament  and 
his  stage  of  advancement.  Some  had  better  start 
with  the  search  for  happiness ;  some  with  the  search 
for  beauty ;  there  is  a  place  in  every  developing  life 
where  these  roads  converge  in  the  broad  highway 
that  leads  not  to  destruction.  But  in  the  nature  of 
the  case,  some  of  our  partial  ideals  guarantee  the 
complete  goal  more  directly  and  certainly  than  do 

48 


others.  For  instance,  the  standard  of  custom  is  low 
in  the  scale ;  any  reflective  standard  is  higher,  since 
the  central  problem  of  moral  progress  happens  to 
be  the  careful  and  reflective  adjustment  of  our 
desires  rather  than  the  blind  gropings  of  unreflective 
habit. 

The  large  moral  ideal  that  I  have  been  suggesting 
as  the  solution  of  the  present  conflict  of  ideals  is  in 
keeping  with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  in  spite  of  its 
moral  doubt.  It  is  in  harmony  with  the  current 
praise  of  the  Bounded  Man.  It  reflects  the  modern 
emphasis  upon  the  abundant  life  which  Spencer, 
stimulated  by  a  vision  of  an  ever-widening  evolu- 
tion, characterizes  as  life's  " breadth,"  and  which 
Tennyson  celebrates  when  he  exclaims, 

'Tis  life,  whereof  our  nerves  are  scant, 
Oh  life,  not  death,  for  which  we  pantj 
More  life,  and  fuller,  that  I  want. 

This  ideal  gives  a  new  meaning  to  our  faith  in  the 
triumph  of  righteousness,  since,  with  it,  all  history 
can  be  readily  conceived  as  contributing  to  a  goal 
so  all-embracing  that  it  can  find  ultimate  use  for 
every  valiant  search  of  men  and  civilizations,  even 
though  they  were  unaware  of  the  fuller  vision  their 
heroism  created  for  those  who  came  after. 

The  reasons  for  the  permanence  of  moral  skep- 
ticism have  been  shown  to  be  faulty.  The  true  ideal 
that  conciliates  all  ideals  has  been  suggested.  But 
one  must  do  more  than  this  to  establish  a  moral 

49 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

confidence  in  it  that  will  solve  the  great  problems 
of  our  day,  and  solve  them  abidingly.  This  moral 
confidence  our  age  lacks  and  needs.  If  we  had  it, 
progress  would  be  more  secure  and  ethical  recon- 
struction more  certain.  If  we  had  it,  even  if  we 
chose  a  merely  partial  ideal,  we  would  at  least  fol- 
low it  seriously,  so  that  it  would  expand  of  itself 
out  of  its  relative  poverty  into  the  fullness  of  life. 
But  the  trouble  with  our  age  is  not  so  much  that 
it  has  a  wrong  moral  ideal,  as  that  men  have  no 
absolute  confidence  in  any  moral  ideal  at  all! 

Now,  the  conditions  of  such  a  moral  confidence 
are  not  simple.  They  cannot  be  created  by  mere 
sentimental  exhortations.  The  leaders  of  men  must 
know  what  these  conditions  are,  and  that  speedily, 
if  our  greater  problems  are  to  be  solved.  To  under- 
stand them  will  be  to  clarify  still  further  the  way 
of  life  to  which  we  have  just  been  led  by  logic  and 
by  history. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  CONDITIONS  OF  MOEAL  CONFIDENCE 

MOST  of  the  individuals  we  acclaim  as  great  and 
most  outstanding  civilizations  have  been  character- 
ized by  what  we  may  call  moral  confidence.  The 
golden  age  of  Greece  built  its  glory  with  it;  the 
Eef ormation  was  on  fire  with  it ;  the  French  Revolu- 
tion valiantly  transformed  a  social  order  by  it;  the 
American  people  created  a  new  democracy  upon  it. 
It  has  been  the  one  common  attribute  of  vastly 
diverse  personalities,  separated  by  time  and  differ- 
ing widely  in  genius,  such  as  Socrates,  Dante, 
Jeanne  d  'Arc,  Lincoln,  Foch.  It  is  the  fundamental 
virtue  of  contemporary  men  of  action  who  rise  sig- 
nificantly above  their  fellows.  This  moral  confidence 
is  a  confidence  that  there  is  a  veritable  distinction 
between  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong,  that  one 
knows  what  this  distinction  is,  and  that  by  no  pos- 
sible accident  may  one's  fealty  to  the  right  be  ulti- 
mately betrayed  by  failure  or  by  disproof.  Such 
moral  confidence  begets  sacrifice,  even  to  much 
suffering.  Such  men  as  possess  it  have  causes  which 
they  are  not  only  willing  to  live  for,  but  to  die  for. 
There  can  be  no  greater  confidence  than  this. 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  the  moral  confidence  of 

51 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

this  or  that  man  may  be  mistaken.  That  is  not  the 
point.  I  am  not  now  referring  to  any  given  man's 
faith  in  his  particular  moral  creed  and  evaluating 
just  that.  I  am  speaking  of  moral  confidence  in 
the  broad  sense  of  unswerving  loyalty  to  some  moral 
ideal  or  other,  whether  or  not  it  be  the  ideal  finally 
justified  by  all  men.  Moral  confidence  may  or  may 
not  be  misplaced ;  but  moral  confidence  in  something 
is  absolutely  essential  to  any  man  and  to  any  civil- 
ization, if  persistently  courageous  deeds  are  to  be 
done. 

The  indispensable  conditions  of  moral  confidence 
are  surprisingly  analogous  to  the  conditions  of 
political  confidence,  or  of  business  confidence.  The 
political  confidence  of  citizens  rests  upon  certain 
convictions, — convictions  concerning  the  fundamen- 
tal nature  and  tendencies  of  their  state.  Business 
confidence,  too,  depends  upon  certain  underlying 
convictions  or  beliefs ;  as,  for  instance,  beliefs  in  the 
honesty  and  credit  of  one's  business  associates,  the 
stability  of  economic  institutions,  the  state  of  the 
market,  and  the  conditions  of  supply  and  demand. 
Just  so,  moral  confidence  is  not  a  gratuitous  thing; 
it,  too,  rests  upon  certain  beliefs, — beliefs  about  the 
nature  of  the  life  and  experience  in  which  our  moral 
deeds  are  cast.  Just  as  in  business,  so  in  morals, 
we  may  not  be  fully  conscious  of  these  underlying 
beliefs;  but  we  have  them  if  ours  is  a  significant 
moral  faith. 

The  easiest  way  to  see  the  importance  of  certain 

52 


CONDITIONS  OF  MOKAL  CONFIDENCE 

beliefs,  concerning  which  we  think  little  and  yet 
which  are  ever  with  us,  is  to  imagine  them  suddenly 
absent,  or  to  imagine  ourselves  believing  something 
exactly  contradictory  to  them.  Suppose,  for  in- 
stance, that  we  were  convinced  that  life  is  of  such 
a  nature  that  what  we  call  wrong  will  certainly 
triumph  in  the  long  run.  Suppose  that  we  really 
believed  that  all  efforts  on  our  part  to  prevent  this 
catastrophe  were  futile,  all  our  serious  strivings 
for  righteousness  subject  to  sure  defeat,  all  our  sac- 
rifices for  it  utterly  in  vain.  If  we  were  surely  con- 
vinced of  this,  how  many  of  us  would  continue  the 
moral  struggle?  How  many  of  us  would  die  for  a 
cause  for  which  there  is  no  hope  of  victory?  We 
are  not  very  fond  of  doing  useless  deeds,  especially 
if  they  involve  effort  and  suffering.  And  moral 
struggle  ever  involves  just  these  things.  If  moral 
hope  were  once  thoroughly  and  finally  believed  to 
be  "a  phantom  spirit,  throwing  up  wild  hands,"  all 
moral  confidence  would  be  forever  dead. 

The  first  condition  of  moral  confidence,  then,  is 
the  conviction  that  the  universe  is,  at  bottom,  a 
moral  order ;  that  is,  an  order  in  which  righteousness 
will  certainly  triumph,  or  at  any  rate  has  a  chance 
to  triumph.  Yet,  this  faith  is  not  certainly  proved 
by  our  ordinary  observations  of  the  mere  facts  of 
life  as  we  know  it.  Sometimes  it  seems  just  the 
other  way;  "right  forever  on  the  scaffold,  wrong 
forever  on  the  throne."  The  question  whether  the 
world  is  growing  better  is  an  endless  question, 

53 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

always  with  inconclusive  evidence  so  far  as  the  mere 
facts  are  concerned,  which  will  appeal  as  convinc- 
ing according  to  one 's  temperament  and  experience. 
One  cannot  base  great  moral  confidence  upon  the 
few  passing  events  of  life  that  we  now  see,  any 
more  than  could  the  afflicted  Job.  Such  confidence 
must  reach  down  to  the  belief  that,  whatever  appear- 
ances may  be,  the  very  nature  of  our  universe  is  such 
that  it  makes  the  triumph  of  righteousness  in  it  a 
natural  thing. 

Such  a  universe  is  different  from  any  other  kind 
of  universe,  and  involves  a  very  definite  structure ; 
although  few  are  likely  to  reflect  thoroughly  upon 
just  what  it  does  involve.  To  say  that  the  universe 
is  a  moral  order  is  to  say  so  many  other  things! 
It  is  to  say  that  its  manifold  changes  are  not  only 
according  to  law,  but  that  this  law  is  moral,  what- 
ever else  it  is  besides.  For  instance,  it  is  to  imply 
that  evolution  is  not  only  a  change  from  certain 
types  of  organism  to  certain  other  types,  as  from 
structure  and  function  relatively  simple  to  those 
relatively  complex,  but  that  it  is  really,  in  the  long 
run,  a  development  from  worse  life  to  better  life; 
that,  in  the  long  run,  the  survival  of  the  fittest  means 
also  the  survival  of  the  best,  although  science  may 
not  legitimately  commit  itself  to  such  a  statement, 
while  never  denying  it.  To  have  confidence  that  the 
universe  is  of  such  a  nature  that  righteousness  will 
triumph  is  to  know  that  it  has  a  goal  of  a  very 
definite  sort,  even  though  it  forever  recedes  in  the 

54 


distance,  and  that  this  goal  cannot  be  conceived  as 
imperfect  or  defective.  If  it  were  defective,  of 
course  it  would  not  be  wholly  good ;  and  yet  we  are 
to  believe  in  the  utter  triumph  of  the  good  if  our 
moral  confidence  is  to  be  sure ;  and  it  must  be  sure. 
To  say  that  a  moral  goal  is  defective  is  another  way 
of  saying  that  it  must  be  supplanted  by  a  better  one. 
The  moral  ideal  can  never  be  thought  of  as  short 
of  perfection.  Even  though  no  finite  individuals  or 
societies  may  ever  actually  attain  it,  it  is  the  "  far- 
off  divine  event"  toward  which  they  struggle,  and 
which  becomes  the  ultimate  standard  of  their  prog- 
ress. This  absolute  goal,  this  perfect  self  of  men 
and  societies  is  sometimes,  and  in  many  guises,  in- 
cluded in  the  idea  of  God. 

So,  also,  confidence  in  the  moral  order  is  likely 
to  imply  an  interpretation  of  death  that  deprives  it 
of  its  power  to  defeat  the  continuous  attainment  of 
the  individual,  that  is,  if  it  be  an  endless  goal  toward 
which  the  moral  mandate  urges  him.  This  inter- 
pretation of  death  becomes  a  confidence  in  immor- 
tality. 

Further,  belief  in  the  moral  order  means  that  one 
has  the  chance  to  choose  the  right  rather  than  the 
wrong;  that  in  some  sense  or  other  one  is  respon- 
sible for  his  choice,  that  one  is  not  "fated,"  but 
free,  a  master  of  his  own  fate. 

This  is  why  in  all  ages  confidence  in  the  moral 
order  has  carried  with  it  some  beliefs  favorable 
or  unfavorable,  but  nevertheless  decisive,  concern- 

55 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

ing  God,  Immortality,  and  Freedom.  Whatever  the 
verities  in  which  moral  confidence  was  based,  when 
faith  in  them  declined,  moral  confidence  declined. 
It  is  the  custom  to  call  faith  concerning  these  mat- 
ters " religion,"  especially  if  they  are  affirmative, 
although  they  are  subjects  of  purely  rational  re- 
search as  well.  At  any  rate,  in  so  far  as  religion 
gives  men  a  belief  in  a  moral  order  of  some  sort, 
and  a  faith  in  the  verities  necessary  for  a  moral 
order,  religion  is  a  help  to  morals. 

And  here  we  come  to  an  all-important  fact.  In 
examining  our  age  we  find  it  to  be  not  only  an  age 
of  moral  skepticism,  but  of  religious  skepticism  as 
well.  Now,  as  moral  and  religious  confidence  are 
necessary  to  one  another,  so  do  moral  and  religious 
doubt  reenforce  one  another,  so  that  our  age  turns 
out  to  be  not  only  an  age  of  moral  skepticism,  but 
an  age  in  which  the  indispensable  religious  condi- 
tions of  such  a  moral  confidence  as  would  displace 
doubt  do  not  surely  exist! 

The  greatest  truth  for  any  ethical  reconstruction 
at  this  time  is  this :  Since  moral  confidence  cannot 
be  restored  without  a  confidence  in  whatever  verities 
make  it  possible,  we  need  a  new  grounding  of  these 
verities  that  will  appeal  to  the  critical  intelligence 
of  our  own  day.  Uncritical  revelation,  false  or 
true,  will  no  longer  suffice.  We  might  go  straight- 
way to  religion,  but  religion  is  just  now  in  grievous 
need  of  this  same  confidence,  although  the  World 
War  wondrously  revived  a  longing  for  its  truths. 

56 


CONDITIONS  OF  MOKAL  CONFIDENCE 

So  now,  surely,  is  the  crucial  time  for  a  new  and 
rational  discussion  of  what  are  to  be  our  funda- 
mental beliefs  so  far  as  they  are  necessary  for  moral 
faith,  and  especially  as  they  are  affected  by  science, 
the  great  intellectual  enterprise  of  our  time  that 
seems  to  put  most  stumbling-blocks  in  our  way. 

But  since  such  a  discussion  will  inevitably  remain 
so  intimately  related  to  what  we  term  religion,  it  is 
advisable  first  to  attempt  a  better  view  of  what  re- 
ligion is,  scrutinized  logically  and  related  to  two 
other  immemorial  ways  in  which  men  have  sought 
for  truth. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  PHILOSOPHEE,  THE  POET,  AND  THE  PEOPHET 

MORAL  confidence  implies  a  world-view,  a  convic- 
tion concerning  what  life  is  in  its  reality,  contrasted 
with  what  it  appears  to  be;  some  interpretation  of 
what  the  world  is,  not  in  its  fragments,  but  in  its 
wholeness.  Now,  all  advanced  civilizations  have 
offered  men  three  different  ways  to  a  world-view. 
The  way  of  the  Philosopher  is  one ;  the  way  of  the 
Poet  is  another;  and  the  way  of  the  Prophet  is  a 
third, — and  by  this  last  I  mean  the  way  of  religion. 
I  have  already  spoken  of  this  as  the  most  common 
way,  but  now  I  wish  to  define  it  further ;  and  I  know 
not  how  to  do  it  better  than  to  compare  the  way  of 
the  Prophet  of  religious  verities  with  that  of  his 
fellow  seekers  after  the  reality  of  things,  the  Phi- 
losopher on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Poet  on  the  other. 

That  poetry,  philosophy,  and  religion  possess 
some  fundamentally  common  interests  is  suggested 
by  their  close  interrelation  in  every  age  when  they 
have  flourished  at  all.  Ever  does  the  great  Poet 
tend  to  become  also  the  Philosopher,  with  a  distinct 
philosophic  view  of  things  as  the  major  motive  of 
his  singing.  There  was  Dante,  in  whom  is  found  one 
of  the  richest  expressions  of  the  philosophy  of  the 

58 


PHILOSOPHER,  POET,  AND  PROPHET 

medieval  era.  There  was  Goethe,  whose  poetry  is  at 
the  last  a  bold  view  of  life,  one  aspect  of  which  finds 
glorification  in  the  tragedy  and  triumph  of  the  spirit 
of  Faust.  For  us  of  the  English  tradition,  there  is 
Shakespeare,  with  a  quite  definite  notion  of  a  moral 
order,  which  becomes  a  key  to  comic  climax  and  to 
tragic  doom.  There  is  Wordsworth,  with  his  love  of 
nature  transfigured  in  the  name  of  God,  Plato,  and 
sundry  theologians.  There  is  Tennyson,  whose  re- 
flective poetry,  most  conspicuously  In  Memoriam,  is 
the  philosophic  defiance  of  an  age  that  finds  its  dear- 
est faiths  assailed  successfully  by  the  pitiless  onward 
march  of  science.  There  is  Browning,  through  whose 
kaleidoscope  of  dramatic  patterns  is  to  be  seen  a 
pattern  common  to  all,  a  pattern  of  a  universe  in 
which  the  problem  of  evil  is  solved  at  last ;  a  pattern 
detailed  in  myriad  ways,  from  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra  to 
Abt  Vogler;  from  Pippa  Passes  to  Prospice. 

Just  as  the  great  Poet  tends  to  be  also  a  Philoso- 
pher, so  does  the  great  Philosopher  tend  to  be  a 
Poet.  There  was  Parmenides,  whose  changeless  One 
found  lips  to  sing  his  world-view  in  a  poem,  On  Na- 
ture. There  was  Lucretius,  who  longed  for  that 

Passionless  bride,  divine  Tranquillity, 
Yearn 'd  after  by  the  wisest  of  the  wise. 

Whose  Epicureanism  spoke  rhythmically  for  both 
Poet  and  Philosopher  evermore.  Above  all,  there 
was  Plato,  with  no  rhymes,  indeed,  and  none  of  the 
rigid  conventions  of  the  Poet's  craft,  who,  neverthe- 

59 


THE  TEUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

less,  is  one  of  the  greatest  poets  of  the  spirit  that 
ever  spun  the  texture  of  ultimate  dreams. 

And,  further,  both  philosophic  vision  and  poetic 
song  tend  to  merge  with  religion,  which  ever  yearns 
to  express  its  highest  moods  in  poetry;  and  which 
is  also  so  closely  related  to  philosophy  that  it  is  often 
hard  to  say  where  religion  ends  and  philosophy  be- 
gins. Are  the  musings  of  the  Oriental  sages  in  the 
Zend- A  vestas,  the  Vedas,  and  the  Upanishads  philos- 
ophy, or  are  they  religion?  A  mystic  like  Meister 
Eckhart, — is  he  Philosopher  or  is  he  Prophet?  Or, 
read  America's  greatest  Philosopher,  Eoyce;  when 
with  him  you  have  found  the  Absolute,  who  suffers 
with  us,  atones  with  us,  and  in  whose  eternal  com- 
pleteness our  fragmentary  selves  triumph,  have  you 
found  mere  philosophic  conviction,  or  is  it  not  also 
an  illuminated  faith  which  partakes  of  the  devotion 
of  religion?  The  aspiration  of  the  Philosopher  and 
the  prayer  of  the  Prophet, — do  they  not  touch  wings  ? 

The  Philosopher,  the  Poet,  and  the  Prophet! 
They  are  spiritually  so  akin  that  it  is  difficult  to 
speak  the  message  of  one  of  them  greatly  without 
voicing  the  message  of  the  other  two.  Why?  Be- 
cause, in  a  measure,  all  three  have  the  same  aim, — 
the  discovery  of  the  world  as  it  really  is,  as  com- 
pared with  what  it  appears  to  be ;  the  search  for  that 
very  reality  that  we  said  any  moral  confidence  in- 
volves! All  three  seek  the  larger  truth  beneath 
those  illusions  which  even  common  sense  accepts,  but 
on  which  no  moral  faith  can  be  based.  Is  the  prob- 

60 


PHILOSOPHER,  POET,  AND  PROPHET 

lem  that  of  death!  Well,  ask  all  three  what  is  the 
reality  about  death,  rather  than  its  mere  appear- 
ance. Poet,  Philosopher,  and  Prophet  alike  know 
that 

We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors; 

Amid  these  earthly  damps, 
What  seem  to  us  but  sad,  funereal  tapers 
May  be  heaven's  distant  lamps. 

Yes,  it  is  the  common  attribute  of  all  three  to  look 
deeper  than  does  the  casual  observer  of  life.  The 
oar  in  the  water  appears  bent;  the  reality  is  quite 
another  thing.  So,  in  the  abstruser  matters  of  life 
and  mind,  we  must  go  below  the  surface  of  things, 
seeing  them  not  in  their  fragmentariness,  but  in 
their  totality,  as  parts  of  a  rational  whole.  Poet, 
Philosopher,  and  Prophet  alike  suspect  it  may  be 
that 

All  nature  is  but  art,  unknown  to  thee ; 

All  chance,  direction,  which  thou  canst  not  see ; 

All  discord,  harmony  not  understood ; 

All  partial  evil,  universal  good. 

It  is  this  view  of  life  in  its  completeness  that  the 
Poet,  Philosopher,  and  Prophet  all  seek  together, 
each  in  his  own  way;  and  in  so  far  as  they  find  it, 
they  serve  morals  by  revealing,  through  some  world- 
view,  the  conditions  of  such  moral  confidence  as  may 
render  an  age  heroic.  Civilizations  have  won  su- 
preme victories  through  the  strength  they  gave. 
But  while  Philosopher,  Poet,  and  Prophet  agree  in 

61 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

this  one  subject  of  their  search,  they  do  not  all  agree 
in  their  ways  of  attaining  it.  Their  aims  are  alike, 
but  their  methods  are  different.  Here  it  is  that  the 
Poet  and  the  Prophet  part  company  from  the  Philos- 
opher. The  two  former  seek  reality  through  what 
we  call  insight,  intuition,  inspiration,  the  divine  af- 
flatus. The  Prophet's  eye,  as  well  as  the  Poet's, 

in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling, 
Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven. 

Not  so  with  the  Philosopher.  He  seeks  reality  by  a 
far  different  means, — through  the  cold,  technical 
processes  of  logic;  through  reason  rather  than 
through  intuition;  through  provable  and  defensible 
demonstration  rather  than  through  inspiration.  So 
it  is,  too,  that  the  Philosopher's  legitimate  mode  of 
expression  differs  from  that  of  both  the  Poet  and 
the  Prophet.  The  Philosopher  expounds  reality  in 
terms  of  abstract  concepts,  carefully  made  over  into 
a  logical  system,  often  bristling  with  forbidding  tech- 
nical phrases  for  the  sake  of  extreme  rational  exact- 
ness. The  Poet  and  the  Prophet,  on  the  other  hand, 
agree  in  expressing  their  views  of  reality  through 
concrete  images,  rather  than  through  abstract  con- 
ceptions; they  speak  eloquently  through  sensuous 
symbols ;  they  entice  not  only  the  mind,  but  the  heart. 
" Simple,  sensuous,  and  passionate"  are  both  Poet 
and  Prophet.  They  suggest  rather  than  argue,  re- 
veal rather  than  expound,  speaking  not  through  phi- 
losophy's reason,  but  through 

62 


PHILOSOPHER,  POET,  AND  PEOPHET 

August  anticipations,  symbols,  types 
Of  a  dim  splendor  ever  on  before 
In  that  eternal  circle  life  pursues. 

For  instance,  the  Philosopher  communicates  his  Ab- 
solute, which  includes  all  time  and  space,  through  a 
speech  filled  with  the  arid  terms  that  abstract  reason 
often  involves;  the  Poet  and  the  Prophet,  however, 
finding  little  help  in  logic,  return  from  their  imme- 
diate vision  and  tell  it  in  metaphor,  with  a  rhapsody 
still  in  their  souls  such  as  Henry  Vaughn  utters : 

I  saw  eternity  the  other  night 

Like  a  great  Ring  of  pure  and  endless  light, 

All  calm,  as  it  was  bright; 

And  round  beneath  it,  Time  in  hours,  days,  years, 

Driv'n  by  the  spheres 

Like  a  vast  shadow  mov'd,  in  which  the  world 

And  all  her  train  were  hurl  'd. 

It  is  through  presumably  demonstrable  proofs  onto- 
logical,  teleological  or  otherwise  that  the  Philosopher 
gives  us  God ;  but  Wordsworth,  caring  little  for  such 
so-called  proofs,  but  fresh  from  his  solitary  musings 
on  nature,  tells  of  God  not  in  reasons,  but  in  the 
symbols  of  sea  and  sun  and  sky : 

And  I  have  felt 

A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 
Of  elevated  thoughts ;  a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
"Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man ; 

63 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 

All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 

And  rolls  through  all  things. 

Or,  if  he  announces  the  moral  law  ruling  all  the 
events  of  the  universe,  he  does  it  through  no  syl- 
logism; but,  addressing  a  Duty  personalized,  he  ex- 
claims in  inspired  imagery,  unknown  to  logic's  rigid 
speech, 

Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds, 
And  fragrance  on  thy  footing  treads; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  Stars  from  wrong; 
And  the  most  ancient  Heavens,  through  Thee,  are 
fresh  and  strong. 

Or,  again,  the  Poet  and  Prophet  alike  pass  by  the 
Philosopher's  abstract  proofs  that  life  is  not  a  play- 
thing of  chance,  and  in  concrete  images  and  symbols 
prefer  to  proclaim  their  faith 

That  life  is  not  as  idle  ore, 

But  iron  dug  from  central  gloom, 
And  heated  hot  with  burning  fears, 
And  dipt  in  baths  of  hissing  tears, 

And  batter 'd  with  the  shocks  of  doom 

To  shape  and  use. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  Poet  and  the  Prophet 
have  been  genial  comrades  on  the  long  road  that 
leads  to  Reality?  The  Poet  has  written  the  hymns 
of  the  Prophet;  and  the  Prophet  has  given  the  Poet 
his  visions  for  song.  How  many  times  have  both 

64 


PHILOSOPHER,  POET,  AND  PROPHET 

lived  together  in  the  same  body  and  spoken  with  the 
same  lips! 

Alike  as  are  the  Poet  and  the  Prophet  in  aim,  in 
method,  and  in  language  too,  they  differ  both  from 
one  another  and  from  the  Philosopher  in  their  un- 
derlying motives.  For  the  supreme  motive  of  the 
Poet,  as  of  all  those  who  are  artists,  is  to  see  life  in 
its  Beauty;  the  motive  of  the  Philosopher  is  to  see 
life  in  its  Reason ;  the  motive  of  the  Prophet  is  to  see 
life  in  its  Goodness,  whose  ultimate  name  is  Holi- 
ness. Each  seeks  reality  indeed,  but  each  cares  for 
his  own  special  side  of  it.  Beauty  for  its  own  sake ; 
Reason  for  its  own  sake ;  Goodness  for  its  own  sake ; 
each  a  significant  part  of  the  whole  of  Truth.  Yet 
each  involves  the  other  two  and  completes  them. 
The  Poet  seeks  Beauty  for  its  own  sake,  yet  it  must 
be  Beauty  that  is  also  rational  and  good.  The 
Philosopher  seeks  Reason  for  its  own  sake ;  yet  even 
Reason,  if  it  be  true,  shall  not  sin  against  Goodness 
and  Beauty.  The  Prophet  seeks  Goodness  for  its 
own  sake ;  Beauty  too,  in  the  art  of  its  cathedrals,  of 
its  painting,  of  its  sculpture,  of  its  music;  but  it 
must  be  the  Beauty  of  Holiness.  Nor  may  he  leave 
out  Reason ;  only  it  is  Reason  in  the  service  of  sal- 
vation to  the  Good. 

But  now  comes  a  critical  question  pertinent  to  our 
quest  for  a  basis  of  moral  confidence.  If  the  Poet, 
the  Prophet,  and  the  Philosopher  each  give  us  a  total 
view  of  reality  so  necessary  as  the  condition  of  moral 
faith,  which  of  these  three  versions  shall  we  choose? 

65 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

Well,  it  makes  very  little  difference,  does  it,  if  each, 
completely  carried  out,  involves  the  other  two?  Have 
a  sure  faith  in  the  triumph  of  Beauty  or  of  Reason 
or  of  Goodness,  and  a  moral  order  and  a  heroic 
moral  confidence  is  assured.  The  morally  valiant 
of  history  have  been  about  equally  divided  between 
its  Philosophers,  its  Prophets,  and  its  Poets.  There 
was  Socrates;  there  was  Paul;  there  was  Dante. 
Each  learned  by  moral  heroism  that 

Knowledge  by  suffering  entereth. 

Yet  there  is  this  to  be  said,  that  the  conspicuous 
motive  of  religion  is  nearer  the  moral  quest  than  that 
of  poetry  or  of  philosophy ;  for  the  conspicuous  mo- 
tive of  religion  coincides  with  the  moral  motive  of 
Goodness.  Thus  it  is  that  religion  is  always  the 
most  natural  support  for  moral  confidence ;  thus  it  is 
that  religion  is  the  most  common  way  men  have  had 
to  attain  a  world-view  that  means  faith  in  moral 
order. 

At  any  rate,  this  is  true :  one  must  have  something 
of  the  Poet  or  the  Philosopher  or  the  Prophet  in 
him  to  have  any  moral  confidence  at  all.  And  now 
comes  into  view  the  acutely  significant  thing  for  our 
age ;  it  is  an  age  in  which  all  three  of  these  historic 
roads  to  reality  are  surprisingly  neglected.  So,  that 
our  age  should  be  one  of  moral  skepticism  is  not 
an  anomaly;  it  is  a  natural  and  inevitable  correla- 
tive of  the  decline  of  poetry,  philosophy,  and  religion. 
True,  there  is  now  a  revival  of  poetry  through  the 

66 


PHILOSOPHER,  POET,  AND  PEOPHET 

stimulation  of  the  World  War,  which  led  men  to 
face  more  frankly  and  seriously  some  of  the  funda- 
mental realities  of  life  and  death.  Yet,  in  general, 
the  Poet  is  not  popular,  nor  is  he  regarded  very 
seriously,  nor  is  his  message  very  coherent.  The 
poetry  of  the  past  is  neglected  by  even  educated  men, 
who  tend  to  think  of  the  Poets,  as  of  all  mere  artists, 
as  belonging  to  the  luxuries  of  the  spirit.  Not  many 
leisure  hours  of  even  the  man  of  culture  are  spent  in 
reading  poetry.  Philosophy,  too,  is  under  suspicion 
as  being  a  matter  of  sheer  speculation  and  dream 
rather  than  a  valuable  and  necessary  instrument  of 
moral  and  intellectual  progress.  Who  reads  Plato, 
or  Kant,  or  Boyce,  save  as  infrequent  parts  of  col- 
lege curricula  leading  to  degrees?  As  for  religion, 
the  crisis  of  the  war  indeed  unveiled  its  concerns 
for  a  more  serious  consideration  than  many  decades 
have  known;  but  even  yet  religion  is  suspected  by 
multitudes  of  men  as  being  a  mass  of  outgrown 
superstitions  and  credulous  faiths,  very  useful  in- 
deed for  women  and  children,  but  of  little  vital  con- 
cern to  the  modern  man  vigorously  grounded  in  the 
methods  and  achievements  of  an  age  of  reason. 

That  is  the  point.  The  man  of  to-day  knows  that 
he  belongs  to  an  age  of  reason.  And,  scrutinized 
even  superficially,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  this  reason 
in  which  he  has  put  his  robust  faith  and  through 
which  his  boasted  progress  has  taken  place  is  the 
reason  of  natural  science,  not  the  reason  of  philoso- 
phy, or  of  poetry,  or  of  religion.  Natural  science  has 

67 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

taken  the  place  of  these  things.  As  we  have  already 
intimated,  the  age  belongs  not  to  the  Poet,  or  to  the 
Philosopher,  or  to  the  Prophet,  but  to  the  Scientist ! 
To  him  we  owe  all  that  is  most  conspicuously  char- 
acteristic of  our  civilization ;,  our  industrial  progress, 
our  new  means  of  intercommunication,  making  the 
whole  world  one,  our  transit  over  the  earth  and 
through  the  air,  our  medicine  and  surgery,  pre- 
ventive and  curative,  our  visions  of  a  reconstructed 
civilization.  Moral  confidence  may  have  waned; 
moral  faith  may  have  turned  to  doubt;  but  there  is 
one  faith  we  have  not  lost  amid  the  wreck  of  things, 
— our  faith  in  modern  science. 

Herein  lies  a  hope.  Perhaps  in  this  very  science 
we  shall  yet  be  able  to  find  some  secure  basis  for  a 
moral  order;  some  foundation  for  that  moral  con- 
fidence so  much  needed  to  solve  the  problems  of  our 
times. 

We  must  now  look  at  science  very  frankly  and 
find  out. 


CHAPTEE  V 

MODERN  SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

THE  manner  in  which  the  professional  scientist 
regards  science  and  the  manner  in  which  the  average 
man  regards  science  are  two  very  different  things. 
Altogether,  the  average  man  has  a  much  larger  faith 
in  what  science  can  do  than  has  the  scientist  himself, 
proverbially  cautious  as  he  is. 

The  contemporary  man  of  culture  is  likely  to  have 
one  of  two  quite  confident  impressions;  either  that 
science  is  entirely  capable  of  giving  us  a  tolerably 
complete  view  of  the  world  as  it  really  is  in  its  whole- 
ness; or  that  science  discourages  the  possibility  of 
such  an  ambitious  project  as  being  beyond  our  finite 
reason.  These  two  views  about  science  are  aston- 
ishingly divergent,  and  one  wonders  how  such  con- 
trary notions  about  so  well  known  an  enterprise  as 
science  can  flourish  at  the  same  time.  But  they  do. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  neither  view  is  the  true  one; 
and  neither  view  is  sanctioned  by  those  cautious 
professional  scientists  that  are  fully  self-conscious 
concerning  science's  aims  and  methods.  Yet,  since 
both  views  are  widely  current  and  have  so  important 

69 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

a  bearing  upon  the  moral  interpretation  and  pro- 
gress of  our  civilization,  let  us  examine  them  to  see 
what  measure  of  truth  they  contain. 


It  is  a  widespread  notion,  encouraged  by  a  few 
conspicuous  scientists  themselves,  that  science  is 
amply  capable  of  disposing  of  such  questions  of  ulti- 
mate reality  as  the  existence  and  nature  of  the  moral 
ideal,  of  the  soul,  of  God,  of  freedom,  and  of  immor- 
tality,— all  questions  that  must  be  met  in  one  way  or 
another  before  one  may  have  a  coherent  world-view. 
For  this  is  an  age  of  reason;  and  reason  means 
science;  and  science  can  tell  us  all  there  is  to  be 
known  about  the  universe  as  it  really  is,  as  well  as 
about  life 's  true  end ;  and  it  can  devise  the  means  of 
efficiently  realizing  this  end.  That  greatest  gener- 
alization of  modern  science,  evolution,  has  helped 
men  to  gain  this  impression.  Evolution  explains 
so  much  that  it  is  taken  by  many  to  explain  more 
than  it  does.  It  is  enlarged  beyond  the  bounds  of 
biology  and  is  made  into  a  law  for  inorganic  matter, 
and  even  for  mind ;  so  that  we  have  books  on  cosmic 
evolution,  as  well  as  on  the  evolution  of  minds  and 
of  civilizations.  Conspicuous  instances  of  men  who 
have  helped  to  make  such  notions  current  are  Her- 
bert Spencer  and  his  popularizers,  and  Ernst 
Haeckel.  A  multitude  of  other  writers,  fascinated 
by  the  larger  generalizations  of  science  and  not 

70 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

too  careful  of  exactness,  have  aided  in  intrenching 
this  tradition. 

For  such  as  share  this  view  of  the  capabilities  of 
science,  the  results  are  likely  to  seem  certain  enough, 
even  though  largely  negative  of  cherished  beliefs 
uncritically  current  before  natural  science  made  its 
modern  advent.  The  old  faiths  perish,  both  moral 
and  religious.  For  the  universe  we  typically  gain 
is  a  universe  where  a  moral  ideal  is  either  absent 
altogether,  displaced  by  a  necessity  that  knows  only 
laws  of  causation,  never  ideals  to  be  achieved;  or 
the  moral  end  of  man  is  thought  of  as  adjustment  to 
his  environment,  or  to  an  environment  toward 
which  the  past  seems  to  show  we  are  steadily  tend- 
ing. In  this  case,  the  moral  ideal  becomes  identical 
with  the  goal  of  evolution ;  and  this  of  course  can  be 
known  only  very  uncertainly,  or  approximately,  if 
it  can  be  known  at  all.  As  for  God,  the  general  im- 
pression is  that  science  has  "little  use  for  that  hypo- 
thesis"; or,  God  is  translated  into  a  conception  of 
the  sum  total  of  universal  Force,  or  Energy ;  or,  He 
is  frankly  Unknowable, — which  amounts  to  saying 
what  a  great  agnostic  has  said:  "What  we  know 
is  science ;  what  we  don't  know  is  God."  As  for  the 
soul,  if  one  means  by  such  an  entity  something  dis- 
tinct from  the  body  in  any  sense,  science  finds  no 
such  reality ;  at  best,  it  is  an  abstract  generalization 
gathered  only  from  our  passing  mental  states ;  the 
particular  mental  state  of  the  moment  exists,  but  no 
such  thing  as  a  Mind  or  Soul  that  includes  all  our 

71 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

mental  states,  any  more  than  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
a  Horse  that  includes  all  horses.  As  for  freedom, 
all  that  science  knows  tends  to  disprove  it,  in  the 
sense  that  we  have  an  equal  power  to  do  one  thing 
rather  than  another  at  any  given  moment.  One  has 
no  power  of  choice  in  that  sense ;  one  cannot  escape 
from  the  universal  necessity  of  causal  law;  each  is 
the  product  of  heredity  and  environment.  Could 
we  know  any  individual  thoroughly,  together  with 
all  the  conditions  surrounding  him,  we  could  predict 
his  future  acts  as  certainly  as  we  can  predict  a  chem- 
ical reaction  or  an  eclipse  of  the  sun.  If  we  seem  to 
ourselves  at  the  moment  of  choice  to  be  free,  this 
is  only  one  of  our  many  illusions.  Further  reflection 
corrects  this  deceptive  impression  and  convinces  us 
that  all  that  we  think  and  do  is  determined  by  our 
preceding  thoughts  and  deeds,  and  by  the  circum- 
stances in  which  we  find  ourselves.  As  for  immor- 
tality,— nothing  in  nature  lasts  forever,  except,  pos- 
sibly, the  sum  total  of  nature  itself,  together  with 
its  immutable  laws.  The  individual  thing  ever  passes 
away,  whether  it  be  a  sea,  a  mountain,  a  tree,  or  a 
man.  We  have  no  guarantee  of  immortality,  even 
of  the  race.  Ask  nature  of  the  fate  of  all  her  genera 
and  species  and  her  answer  is  sure  and  exceedingly 
merciless : 

"So  careful  of  the  type?"    But  no. 
From  scarped  cliff  and  quarried  stone 
She  cries, ' '  A  thousand  types  are  gone : 

I  care  for  nothing,  all  shall  go." 

72 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

Such  is  the  world-picture  science  is  commonly  sup- 
posed to  draw  for  us.  Face  it  frankly.  At  its  best, 
a  moral  goal  of  physical  health;  a  life  ending  at 
death;  all  deeds  determined  by  the  inflexible  law  of 
cause  and  effect;  and  a  God  that  is  the  universal 
Energy  or  the  Unknowable.  In  his  Atalanta  in  Caly- 
don,  the  poet  Swinburne,  himself  a  curious  blending 
of  the  classic  and  the  ultramodern,  pictures  in  elo- 
quent metaphor  and  without  intention  the  modern 
man  as  natural  science  leaves  him.  Of  course, 
Swinburne  does  this,  not  as  a  scientist,  but  with  his 
own  poet's  strong  reaction  of  satirical  pathos.  Man 
is  a  paradox  of  bounteous  dream  and  brutal  fact,  of 
high  hope  which  stern  reality  denies.  He  is  made  of 

a  measure  of  sliding  sand 
From  under  the  feet  of  the  years; 

his  reason,  a  "remembrance  fallen  from  heaven"  is 
limited  by  his  irrationality,  his  "madness  risen  from 
hell";  his  will  to  choose  and  to  do  is  a  "strength 
without  hands  to  smite" ;  his  love  is  not  an  ideal,  end- 
less thing, — it  "endures  for  a  breath";  and  the 
grave  ends  his  toiling  that  "shall  not  reap,"  for, 
while  "in  his  heart  is  a  blind  desire,"  there  is  "in 
his  eyes  foreknowledge  of  death."  So  that,  at  last, 

His  life  is  a  watch  or  a  vision 
Between  a  sleep  and  a  sleep. 

Those  who  follow  such  a  world-view  as  science  is 
thought  to  give  us  would  rightly  say  that  one  need 

73 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

not  weave  the  thread  of  mockery  into  the  texture  of 
truth  as  Swinburne  has  done.  One  may,  instead, 
face  the  facts  cheerfully  and  sensibly.  If  we  do  not 
like  the  facts,  it  is  no  great  matter.  For,  it  may  be 
said,  the  truth  is  what  we  desire,  even  though  it 
destroy  some  cherished  hopes  of  poets  and  dreamers. 
The  true  man  is  loyal  to  the  truth,  wherever  it  leads. 
If  one  wants  moral  valor,  here  is  the  highest  moral 
valor  of  all.  It  is  such  frank  courage  on  the  part 
of  its  scientific  leaders  that  has  made  our  modern 
civilization  great  in  a  distinct  and  unprecedented 
way. 

The  trouble  is  that  such  a  world-view  requires  a 
moral  valor  that  it  cannot  give.  One  cannot  long  be 
courageously  loyal  through  toil  and  suffering  merely 
for  the  sake  of  being  courageous ;  it  must  be  for  the 
sake  of  something  that  inspires  courage.  A  cause 
whose  very  nature  does  not  inspire  courage  is  des- 
perately in  need  of  the  one  thing  that  it  can  never 
get. 

Yet  elaborate  systems  of  ethics  have  been  reared 
of  late  upon  the  foundations  that  science  is  supposed 
to  give;  usually,  it  must  be  remarked,  not  by  pro- 
fessional scientists  themselves,  but  by  those  who 
carry  the  generalizations  of  science  much  farther 
than  the  scientific  specialist  is  willing  to  do.  There 
are  many  attempts  at  an ' '  ethics  of  evolution. ' '  Such 
attempts  seem  to  signify  that,  after  all,  science  does 
give  us  a  universe  whose  moral  order  is  sufficient 
for  a  complete  ethical  system.  But  examine  these 

74 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

systems  carefully,  try  to  merge  your  life  with  them, 
and  you  discover  two  things.  You  discover,  first, 
that  there  have  been  utterly  omitted  from  these  new 
interpretations  of  moral  values  most  of  the  things 
that  the  highly  praised  men  and  civilizations  of  the 
past  have  cherished,  fought  for,  been  willing  to  die 
for.  This  is  no  final  objection  to  any  system  of  moral 
values,  although  it  does  encourage  further  scrutiny 
of  such  a  system.  Would  Socrates  have  drunk  the 
hemlock  with  fortitude  for  the  laws  of  health!  Can 
the  ideals  of  Plato  reduce  themselves  to  rules  for 
adjustment  to  environment?  Would  Giordano 
Bruno  be  burned  at  the  stake  for  the  sake  of ' "normal 
functioning"!  Did  Leonardo  da  Vinci  paint  for  the 
sake  of  the  " equilibrium  of  universal  forces"!  Is 
there  a  single  law  of  evolution  that  an  army  would 
fight  for!  In  the  great  historic  conflicts  of  ideals, 
the  struggle  for  mere  bodily  existence  has  been  sacri- 
ficed in  the  resolute  pursuit  of  the  things  that  have 
been  regarded  higher  still.  Have  we  really  ceased  to 
care  for  these  things  ?  More  important  still,  can  we 
cease  to  care  for  them!  Did  it  ever  strike  the  mod- 
ern who  has  attempted  to  insure  his  moral  valor  by 
mere  scientific  laws  of  health  that  he  is  caught  be- 
tween the  horns  of  a  pitiless  dilemma?  If  he  cannot 
rid  himself  of  moral  ideals  beyond  mere  bodily 
health  of  self  or  race,  then  the  ideal  of  health  will 
not  suffice  to  enlist  his  moral  courage ;  but  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  can  accept  the  laws  of  health  as  the 
ultimate  moral  values,  he  has  adopted  an  ideal  that 

75 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

never  did  and  never  can  by  itself  alone  enlist  moral 
courage.  In  either  case,  the  moral  confidence  that 
breeds  heroism  is  at  low  ebb.  And  the  moral  crises 
in  life  require  moral  heroism  over  and  over  again, 
or  they  spell  moral  defeat. 

Looking  at  such  an  ethics  at  its  best,  one  is  inspired 
with  a  moral  confidence  of  about  the  grade  of  that 
revealed  by  the  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam,  which 
resolves  itself  to  the  skeptical  query,  "What's  the 
use?"  It  ends  with  the  turning  down  of  an  empty 
glass.  Even  Omar  was  dissatisfied  with  his  own 
sterile  universe,  and  exclaims,  as  the  reflective  mod- 
ern is  likely  to  exclaim  in  the  presence  of  the  moral 
order  as  some  suppose  science  to  interpret  it, 

Ah  love,  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  scheme  of  things  entire, 
Would  we  not  shatter  it  to  bits  and  then 
Kemould  it  nearer  to  the  heart 's  desire ! 

Those  convinced  that  the  moral  order  given  by 
science  is  the  true  order  may  well  answer:  "It 
makes  little  difference  whether  it  appears  to  Omar 
or  to  you  as  'a  sorry  scheme.'  The  universe  is  not 
as  we  make  it  or  wish  it,  but  as  we  find  it.  We  our- 
selves may  not  be  satisfied  with  it  any  more  than 
are  you,  although,  after  all,  it  is  foolish  to  be  dis- 
satisfied with  truth.  At  any  rate,  we  do  one  thing 
you  don't  see  that  you  must  do, — we  at  least  are 
loyal  to  the  facts  as  science  finds  them ;  and  we  build 
whatever  morals  we  can  upon  these  facts." 

76 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

II 

We  certainly  must  be  loyal  to  the  facts  as  science 
finds  them;  but  what  facts  does  science  find?  I 
want  to  show  now  that  science  finds  no  facts  at  all 
that  justify  any  world-view  whatever,  any  moral 
order  of  any  description;  that  the  very  nature  of 
scientific  aim  and  method  renders  it  impossible  for 
science  to  deal  with  any  of  those  ultimate  questions 
that  we  have  been  considering;  that,  truly  seen, 
science  gives  us  absolutely  no  basis  for  either  moral 
confidence  or  moral  skepticism ;  and  that  the  cautious 
modern  scientist  himself  is  thoroughly  in  accord 
with  this  view  of  his  subject;  and  that  those  who 
have  assumed  the  moral  interpretation  of  science 
have  gone  far  beyond  any  results  that  the  great  body 
of  professional  scientists  would  approve. 

Many  of  our  mistaken  notions  about  what  science 
says  or  does  not  say  come  from  speaking  as  if  there 
were  such  a  thing  as  science  in  general;  when  all 
that  we  can  legitimately  mean  by  science  is  the  par- 
ticular sciences.  For  what  is  this  science  that  is 
supposed  to  say  so  much?  It  is  the  score  or  more  of 
particular  sciences,  such  as  the  science  of  astron- 
omy, the  science  of  geology,  of  physics,  of  chem- 
istry, of  biology.  Or,  if  you  include  not  only  the 
natural  sciences,  but  what  are  called  the  mental  and 
social  sciences,  you  may  add  such  subjects  as  psy- 
chology, economics,  sociology,  and  history.  A 
given  scientist  is  ever  a  specialist  in  some  one  of 

77 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

these  subjects  of  scientific  regard.  I  do  not  deny 
that  there  are  some  matters  common  to  all  the 
sciences,  matters  which  I  shall  yet  discuss.  But  just 
at  present  it  is  essential  to  observe  that  when  one 
asks  what  science  has  to  say  on  any  subject,  he  is 
really  asking  what  some  one  of  the  particular 
sciences  has  to  say  on  that  subject. 

We  have  just  been  reviewing  what  sort  of  world- 
view  science  is  said  to  give  us, — what  is  its  verdict 
on  such  questions  as  the  moral  ideal,  God,  Free- 
dom, and  Immortality.  But  now,  since  science  is 
only  a  general  name  for  the  particular  sciences,  the 
real  question  is  what  the  particular  sciences  have 
to  say  on  these  matters.  Take  the  natural  sciences 
first.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  has  any  of  them  anything 
at  all  to  say  on  these  great  subjects?  If  so,  which 
one  of  them  is  it  that  gives  us  any  verdict  about  a 
moral  ideal?  Is  it  chemistry?  Physics?  Which 
one  concerns  itself  with  the  existence  and  nature  of 
God,  or  the  Soul?  Astronomy?  Biology?  In  which 
sort  of  scientific  laboratory  will  one  find  scientists 
experimenting  about  Freedom  and  Immortality? 
Turning  to  the  mental  and  social  sciences,  does  even 
the  psychologist  have  tests  for  such  matters,  along 
with  his  memory  tests  and  reaction-time  tests  ?  Does 
the  scientific  economist  consider  Immortality  in  his 
laws  of  supply  and  demand?  Does  the  scientific  his- 
torian give  us  a  history  of  God,  or  show  the  relations 
of  civilizations  to  His  nature  and  purposes?  The 
truth  is  that  not  one  text-book  of  a  single  modern 

78 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

science,  keeping  strictly  to  its  field,  pretends  to  solve 
such  matters.  Not  only  is  it  a  fact  that  these  ulti- 
mate questions,  whose  solution  is  so  necessary  to 
any  moral  order,  are  not  disposed  of  by  the  sciences 
in  the  way  popularly  supposed ;  but  the  sciences  do 
not  even  touch  such  questions  in  the  least!  One 
might  know  every  law  of  every  one  of  the  special 
sciences  and  yet  not  be  one  whit  wiser  concerning 
any  one  of  the  great  problems  we  have  been  dis- 
cussing. 

Why?  Because  these  problems  are  not  the  prob- 
lems of  the  sciences  in  any  sense.  Then,  whence 
came  the  popular  impression  that  science  actually 
does  solve  them?  Well,  it  is  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  to  let  the  assumption  creep  in  that 
since  the  sciences  do  not  give  any  verdict  on  these 
matters,  they  somehow  give  us  the  warrant  either 
to  deny  them  outright  or  to  assert  that  at  least  we 
can  know  nothing  about  them.  Or,  one  goes  beyond 
the  special  sciences  to  the  common  assumptions  that 
make  the  sciences  possible;  as,  for  instance,  the 
assumption  of  the  law  of  universal  causation  or  the 
persistence  of  force;  and  from  such  larger  gener- 
alizations one  pretends  to  construct  a  moral  order 
of  some  kind.  It  is  again  worthy  of  remark  that  it 
is  not  the  great  body  of  scientific  specialists  them- 
selves who  do  such  things;  it  is  those  who  take  it 
upon  themselves  to  interpret  and  enlarge  the  results 
that  these  specialists  have  gained. 

And  these  moral  interpreters  of  science  are  often 

79 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

wholly  unscientific  and  should  be  promptly  and  thor- 
oughly discredited.  In  discrediting  them,  it  should 
be  our  business  to  show  not  only  that  the  sciences 
do  not  deal  with  ultimate  questions  affecting  the 
moral  order,  but  that,  by  their  very  nature,  they 
simply  cannot.  It  is  in  the  interests  of  science  itself 
to  keep  within  its  legitimate  field. 

The  subject  matter  of  every  natural  science  is  the 
world  of  physical  objects, — objects  in  the  world  of 
space  about  us ;  objects  either  capable  of  being  ap- 
prehended by  our  sense  organs,  or  imagined  as  ap- 
prehended by  them,  as  stars  and  strata  and  plants 
and  animals.  The  aim  of  every  natural  science  is 
the  orderly  description  of  such  physical  objects  and 
their  explanation  by  the  laws  of  causation.  The 
method  of  natural  science  is  primarily  what  logicians 
call  the  inductive  method,  the  method  of  observation 
and  experiment;  by  this  method  are  proved  all 
science's  generalizations  concerning  physical  facts. 
This  is  what  scientific  proof  ever  means — proof  by 
the  physical  facts.  Laws  are  to  be  verified  by  such 
facts.  Hjypotheses  must  be  grounded  in  such  facts. 
Do  not  forget  that,  for  natural  science,  facts,  to  be 
accredited,  must  always  be  facts  capable  of  observa- 
tion and  experiment,  facts  of  the  physical  world. 
Otherwise,  the  very  methods  of  natural  science 
would  break  down;  for  its  instruments  of  experi- 
mentation and  its  quantitative  equations  are  fitted 
only  for  its  characteristic  subject  matter,  the  world 
of  physical  things  and  events.  These  methods  grew 

80 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

out  of  the  desire  to  describe  and  explain  just  this 
world. 

If  natural  science  is  this  very  specific  sort  of  en- 
terprise, it  at  once  appears  that  it  does  not  and 
cannot  deal  with  such  ultimate  questions  as  concern 
a  moral  order  without  violating  its  every  aim  and 
method,  and  without  going  entirely  beyond  its  sub- 
ject matter.  If  the  sole  aim  of  natural  science  is 
the  description  and  explanation  of  facts  as  they  are, 
it  cannot  possibly  give  us  a  demonstration  of  facts 
as  they  ought  to  be.  And  yet  only  such  a  demon- 
stration would  be  a  demonstration  of  what  is  the 
true  moral  ideal.  It  would  seem  rather  absurd  to 
find  a  physicist  discussing  whether  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation ought  morally  to  exist;  or  whether  events 
really  ought  to  have  causes !  Science  does  not  con- 
cern itself  with  such  questions.  Science  does  not 
deal  with  moral  ideals  at  all,  save  as  the  psycholo- 
gist recognizes  their  mere  existence  and  their  psy- 
chological origin  and  setting. 

ni 

In  spite  of  this  very  apparent  fact,  there  are  so 
many  who  persist  in  erecting  a  new  so-called 
" science  of  ethics"  upon  what  they  deem  a  scientific 
basis  that  it  is  well  to  glance  at  these  attempts  still 
further,  just  long  enough  to  evaluate  them.  For  in- 
stance, the  moral  standard  of  pleasure  as  the  true 
end  of  life  sometimes  appears  to  find  encouragement 

81 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

from  biological  evolution,  psychologically  interpret- 
ed. Is  it  not  a  scientific  maxim  that  all  conscious  or- 
ganisms seek  pleasure  and  avoid  pain?  There  has 
been  a  tendency  for  some  scientists  to  hold  this  doc- 
trine, although  recent  psychology  is  more  likely  to 
tell  us  that  pleasure  is  never  normally  the  direct  ob- 
ject of  desire;  that  although  we  do  indeed  seek  ob- 
jects whose  attainment  will  give  pleasure,  yet  we  do 
not  normally  seek  these  objects  primarily  for  the 
sake  of  the  pleasure.  For,  we  are  now  subtly  asked, 
How  may  one  get  pleasure  out  of  any  object,  say 
food,  or  learn  that  one  could  get  pleasure  out  of  it, 
unless  one  desired  the  food  for  itself  in  the  first  place 
and  only  thereupon  chanced  to  find  it  pleasant! 
But  even  if  it  were  proved  that  we  do  always  desire 
pleasure,  that  would  not  prove  that  we  ought  to.  Is 
it  possible  to  espouse  the  monstrous  doctrine  that 
any  act,  no  matter  what  it  is,  is  justified  just  because 
we  find  pleasure  in  it?  If  so,  the  sinner  is  as  good  as 
the  saint,  for  each  attains  pleasure  after  his  own 
fashion.  The  fiendish  thrill  of  the  successful  mur- 
derer may  be  as  pleasant  to  him  as  the  thrill  of  the 
hero  to  the  one  who  finds  joy  in  the  saving  of  a  life. 
The  retort  may  be  made  that  science  teaches  us 
that  the  sinner  does  not  really  get  pleasure  in  the 
long  run ;  that  we  get  pleasure  in  the  long  run  only 
out  of  the  fulfillment  of  what  are  called  normal  de- 
sires; so  here  at  least  modern  science  gives  us  a 
basis  for  immutable  morality.  Seek  activities  that 
are  normal,  be  a  normal  person ;  and  what  a  normal 

82 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

person  is,  science  is  ready  to  answer.  To  be  a  nor- 
mal person  is  to  obey  the  laws  of  nature,  to  adjust 
oneself  to  one's  environment,  natural  and  social. 
But  the  trouble  here  is  that  both  the  environment 
and  the  individual  are  constantly  changing.  One  no 
sooner  gets  adjusted  to  things  as  they  are  than  they 
alter.  This  is  a  growing  world.  Growing  toward 
what?  After  all,  to  adjust  ourselves  to  the  world 
means  in  the  last  resort  to  adjust  ourselves  to  what- 
ever is  the  goal  of  the  world.  What  is  this  goal! 
The  only  thing  science  can  say  here  is  the  vague 
truism  that,  at  any  rate,  morals  means  "  progres- 
sive adjustment";  when  asked  further  what  is  the 
goal  of  this  progress  (which  we  must  know  if  we  are 
to  judge  whether  we  are  progressing  at  all!)  science 
can  give  no  answer.  What  is  the  goal  of  evolution 
no  scientist  can  even  guess.  What  ought  to  be  the 
goal  of  evolution  is  utterly  outside  scientific  specu- 
lation. Verily  science  gives  us  no  help  here.  How 
may  one  gain  a  never-changing  ideal  from  what  we 
now  know  of  evolution1?  The  concept  of  evolution 
has  accustomed  men  to  think  in  terms  of  perpetual 
change.  Nothing  stays  put.  Nothing  is  final.  Nor 
will  our  knowledge  greatly  improve  with  time,  for 
the  goal  of  evolution  is  a  flying  goal;  the  endless 
years  are  ever  before  it  and  human  knowledge  is 
ever  finite.  All  we  can  hope  for  is  approximate 
knowledge ;  and  even  that  is  extremely  doubtful.  No, 
even  the  majestic  flux  of  evolution  can  give  us  no 
certain  moral  ideal.  In  fact,  its  very  endlessness  of 

83 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

reach  breeds  intellectual  modesty  and  the  moral 
skepticism  that  we  have  found  characteristic  of  our 
age.  The  best  science  can  do  is  to  give  us  pruden- 
tial rales,  which  are  fairly  accurate  for  the  particu- 
lar section  of  the  stream  of  change  wherein  our  little 
lives  are  placed.  There  is  no  guarantee  that  even 
reason  itself  may  not  alter  its  fundamental  nature 
in  the  endless  flow  of  all  things  onward!  Eeason 
arose  as  a  biological  necessity;  it  is  the  servant  of 
life,  not  its  master.  Even  it  is  no  more  immutable 
than  its  so-called  truths. 

Observe  that  what  is  common  in  all  these  attempts 
to  construct  morals  on  the  basis  of  science  is  the 
assumption  that  what  actually  is  or  has  been  is  a 
sumcient  clew  to  what  ought  to  be.  This  assump- 
tion is  far  from  logical,  but  it  is  extremely  prevalent, 
even  among  those  who  have  claims  to  respectable 
scientific  attainment.  They  examine  how  men  have 
morally  acted  and  judged  in  the  past,  gather  to- 
gether the  agreements  as  they  become  evident  and 
then,  making  a  sudden  leap  in  reasoning,  announce 
them  as  laws  of  what  ought  to  be  for  the  future. 
The  fallacy  is  apparent  enough  when  once  seen; 
but  the  harm  does  not  end  merely  with  making  the 
past  of  the  race  mandatory  over  its  future.  The 
more  fundamental  result  is  an  arrant  materialism; 
for  since  ethics  is  to  be  "scientific,"  and  since  nat- 
ural science  concerns  itself  only  with  matter,  all 
immaterial  ideals  are  ignored  as  being  outside  scien- 
tific attention,  and  to  the  average  man  are  thus  made 

84 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

to  seem  unreal.  Moral  laws  become  not  only  the 
tyranny  of  the  yesterdays  over  the  to-morrows,  but 
are  reduced  to  mere  laws  of  bodily  health  and  of  effi- 
ciency, to  biologic  and  economic  rules  of  living.  And 
even  then  what  is  the  sense  of  saying  that  we  ought 
to  obey  these  rules  when,  according  to  science 's  law 
of  universal  causation,  we  cannot  do  anything  else, 
since  we  ourselves  are  parts  of  an  evolutionary  pro- 
cess that  will  not  be  changed  to  right  or  left  by  any 
caprice  of  our  wills! 

None  of  this  is  meant  to  be  an  indictment  of  mod- 
ern science.  At  most,  it  is  merely  a  protest  against 
the  misuse  of  science.  It  is  a  statement  of  how 
science  has  gone  astray  among  the  great  body  of 
men  who  tacitly  or  openly  and,  I  think,  uncritically 
rely  upon  their  own  interpretations  of  it  for  a  solu- 
tion of  moral  problems. 

So,  again,  if  the  aim  of  natural  science  is  to  de- 
scribe and  explain  physical  objects,  it  cannot  pos- 
sibly have  anything  to  say  about  God  or  the  Soul, — 
unless,  indeed,  it  claims  that  these  themselves  are 
physical  things.  Then  and  then  only  can  natural 
science  prove  or  disprove  them ;  or,  realizing  that  it 
does  not  know  everything  about  the  physical  world, 
science  may  say  that,  at  any  rate,  it  has  yet  to  find 
such  entities  within  its  sphere.  Science  will  not 
greatly  object  if,  for  your  purposes,  you  spell  this 
ignorance  as  the  "Unknowable"  and  call  it  God; 
only,  if  it  is  really  unknowable,  why  so  sure  it  is 
God!  Or,  if  it  comforts  you  to  put  capitals  to  Force 

85 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

and  Energy  and  to  kneel  before  them,  science  will 
not  trouble  to  molest  your  devotions.  But  concern- 
ing a  God  such  as  the  great  religions  have  recog- 
nized, a  God  that  is  a  spirit,  that  ''dwells  not  in 
temples  made  with  hands";  or  concerning  a  Soul 
that  is  not  flesh  and  blood,  and  is  not  a  quantity  for 
weight  or  measure,  natural  science  has  nothing  to 
say.  Again,  for  natural  science,  such  questions  are 
meaningless. 

And,  finally,  natural  science  is  perfectly  right  in 
pointing  out  that  in  her  realm  all  things  pass  away, 
that  they  are  mortal;  and  that  all  things  that  come 
within  her  regard  do  what  they  are  compelled  to  do 
by  the  inflexible  necessity  of  the  causes  within  and 
around  them, — they  are  ' 'fated/'  not  free.  But  if 
any  one  goes  further  and  asks  if  there  is  anything 
outside  the  realm  of  natural  science  that  is  immortal 
and  free,  science  will  rightly  answer:  "I  know  of 
no  such  entities  and  no  such  realm.  Your  question  is 
not  pertinent  to  my  business  as  a  scientist.  You 
might  as  well  ask  a  man  in  his  capacity  as  a  lawyer 
for  expert  judgment  on  a  problem  in  architecture." 

IV 

What  is  true  of  the  natural  sciences  in  these  mat- 
ters is  just  as  surely  true  of  the  mental  and  social 
sciences,  although  at  first  it  may  not  seem  so,  prob- 
ably because  these  sciences  are  not  yet  so  well  de- 
fined, and  especially  because  some  of  those  who  have 

86 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

devoted  themselves  to  them  have  not  always  been 
so  careful  to  keep  within  purely  scientific  limits. 
Yet,  without  going  into  tedious  discussion,  this  much 
is  apparent  at  once.  All  the  recognized  mental  and 
social  sciences  are  at  one  with  natural  science  in  aim 
and  in  method,  whatever  may  be  said  of  their  subject 
matter.  Here  one  is  constrained  to  remark  that  in 
so  far  as  the  social  sciences  seem  to  differ  from  the 
natural  sciences  by  dealing  with  matter  outside  the 
realm  of  physical  objects  and  events,  they  deal  with 
what  belongs  to  the  science  of  psychology.  But  does 
the  modern  science  of  psychology  deal  with  mental 
states  as  such?  Does  it  not  rather  describe  and  ex- 
plain mental  phenomena  only  through  those  physical 
processes  of  the  nervous  system  that  accompany 
them? 

However  this  may  be,  the  only  excuse  for  regard- 
ing the  social  sciences  as  " sciences"  at  all  is  their 
own  avowal  that,  on  the  analogy  of  the  natural 
sciences,  their  legitimate  purpose  is  to  describe  and 
explain  social  phenomena  as  they  actually  are.  They 
are  devotees  to  the  " facts"  as  much  as  is  the  phys- 
icist or  the  chemist;  and  this  is  in  their  praise. 
Now,  in  the  social  sciences,  no  more  than  in  phys- 
ics or  chemistry,  can  you  logically  derive  from 
merely  what  are  the  facts  what  ought  to  be  the  facts. 
Yet,  this  is  the  first  task  in  constructing  a  moral 
order.  The  mere  description  and  explanation  of 
social  phenomena  as  they  have  been  and  are  does 
not  warrant  sociology  as  a  science  to  deduce  so- 

87 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

ciety  as  it  ultimately  ought  to  be.  This  is  going  be- 
yond both  the  data  and  method  of  sociology.  The 
mere  descriptive  determination  of  historical  events 
in  their  interrelations  does  not  give  the  historian 
any  scientific  warrant  for  announcing  what  the 
course  of  history  for  the  future  ought  to  be  made. 
The  social  sciences  may  adopt  moral  ideals;  they 
may  show  historic  trends  toward  moral  ideals ;  but 
they  do  not  and  cannot  prove  moral  ideals.  Nor  can 
they  attain  to  the  solution  of  the  ultimate  realities, 
such  as  God  and  Immortality,  any  more  than  can 
natural  science,  because  their  own  definitions  of  their 
subject  matter  and  method  simply  leave  out  such 
questions  as  essentially  irrelevant. 

If  these  considerations  do  not  suffice,  there  is 
one  consideration  that  will.  Not  one  of  the  special 
sciences,  natural  or  social,  concerns  itself  with  any- 
thing but  an  abstracted  aspect  of  reality, — not  one 
of  them  with  reality  as  it  is  in  its  wholeness.  The 
chemical  truth  about  things  is  confessedly  not  the 
whole  truth;  neither  is  the  biological  or  geological 
side  of  reality  anything  but  a  partial  account  of 
things  as  they  are.  Society  has  its  economic  side, 
its  historic  side,  its  psychological  side ;  but  none  of 
these  alone  is  concrete  society  in  its  truth.  To  get 
at  not  merely  a  partial  but  a  complete  view  of  real- 
ity, one  must  transcend  any  and  all  of  these  special 
sciences  and  get  a  glimpse  of  the  total  world  of 
which  each  special  science  gives  us  but  a  fragment. 
No  science  does  this.  And  yet,  as  we  have  seen,  it 

88 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  GREAT  VERITIES 

is  a  world-view  that  we  are  after  as  a  basis  for  a 
moral  order  and  moral  confidence ! 

Of  course,  one  could  leave  the  aims  and  methods 
of  science  as  I  have  described  them  and  engage  in 
other  enterprises  and  call  them  " science,"  as  some 
men  have  done;  but  it  would  be  only  a  "sort  of 
science,"  a  science  by  metaphor,  which  would  be 
promptly  discredited  as  strictly  science  by  every 
careful  scientist, — such  as  projects  that  make  the 
biological  concept  of  evolution  explain  the  whole  uni- 
verse. I  shall  have  something  to  say  about  such 
pseudo-science  in  its  proper  place.  Unfortunately, 
there  is  an  abundance  of  it. 


But  because  science  rightly  says,  "I  find  no  moral 
order,  I  find  no  God,  I  find  no  Soul,  no  Immortality 
in  my  realm," — is  that  the  same  as  saying  that  the 
universe  holds  no  such  realities!  Yes,  on  one  con- 
dition ;  if  science 's  realm  is  the  only  reality  we  can 
prove  to  exist,  and  if  scientific  method  is  the  only 
cogent  method  of  demonstration.  It  is  a  quite  pop- 
ular impression  that  this  is  so.  And  yet  here  is  a 
significant  fact :  There  is  not  a  single  scientific  spe- 
cialist of  repute  who  has  attempted  to  prove  by 
scientific  method  that  what  science  cannot  demon- 
strate is  thereby  disproved.  Science  itself  has 
never  taught  us  that  all  we  know  is  science.  Such  a 
position  is  either  a  gratuitous  assumption  or  a  con- 

89 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

elusion  of  philosophers  who  have  paradoxically  gone 
utterly  beyond  science  to  prove  that  there  is  no 
proof  beyond  science ! 

Therefore,  to  say  that  the  subject  matter  of  science 
is  physical  objects  is  not  the  same  as  to  say  that  all 
realities  are  physical ;  although  this  may  be  so.  To 
say  that  the  method  of  science  is  observation  and 
experiment  is  not  to  say  that  the  only  strictly  logi- 
cal and  exact  method  of  attaining  truth  is  observa- 
tion and  experiment;  although  the  truth  may  turn 
out  to  be  this;  yet  if  it  does,  what  about  mathe- 
matics, which  is  exact  enough,  and  yet  which  is 
neither  a  natural  nor  a  social  science !  To  say  that 
the  aim  of  science  is  the  description  and  explanation 
of  facts  as  they  are  is  not  to  say  that  there  is  no 
demonstrable  realm  of  things  as  they  ought  to  be; 
although,  again,  this  may  be  the  truth.  The  mere 
fact  that  science  does  not  pronounce  upon  these  mat- 
ters is  not  a  legitimate  basis  for  skepticism,  but  only 
for  open-mindedness.  If  science  were  entirely 
through  with  her  endless  task,  these  would  still  be 
open  questions  left  over  by  science  as  being  outside 
her  legitimate  realm,  and  which  science  would  not 
have  prejudiced  in  any  way. 

Anything  else  is  scientific  dogmatism,  a  dogma- 
tism that  boldly  assumes  without  proof  that  science 
and  proof  are  identical.  This  may  be  so ;  but  it  is 
not  at  all  scientific  merely  to  assume  it.  Let  us  be 
as  carefully  logical  in  talking  about  science  as  we 
are  in  talking  within  science !  Scientific  dogmatism 

90 


that  leaps  out  of  its  region  of  proof  into  the  realm 
of  non-scientific  realities  is  even  worse  than  the  kind 
of  religious  dogmatism  that  presumes  upon  giving 
verdicts  on  scientific  questions.  It  is  worse  because 
science  has  made  more  pretensions  to  logical  pro- 
cedure than  religion  ever  has.  The  two  realms  are 
related;  but  the  relation  is  not  one  that  permits 
irrelevant  and  illogical  encroachment.  Such  scien- 
tific dogmatism  is  bad  for  the  interests  of  both 
science  and  the  moral  verities.  Scientific  experts 
have  long  appreciated  that  science  progresses  in 
proportion  as  scientists  are  exact  in  the  definition 
of  their  regions  of  search. 

Our  hope  that  a  moral  order  as  a  basis  for  moral 
confidence  might  be  discovered  in  the  verdicts  of 
modern  science  has  proved  in  vain.  But  there  is 
one  result  of  our  search  that  is  not  absolutely  hope- 
less. We  have  not  yet  been  forced  to  moral  skepti- 
cism as  the  final  outcome,  although  we  have  found 
this  to  be  the  unwarranted  notion  of  some  of  the 
popular  construers  of  science.  I  have  tried  to  show 
clearly  how  illogical  such  an  interpretation  is,  and 
how  antithetical  to  the  spirit  of  science  itself.  What 
we  have  reached  at  last  is  merely  that  science  has  no 
answer  whatever  to  give  to  our  questions  about  a 
moral  order  and  the  great  verities  that  go  with  it. 
It  is  something  to  know  this.  What  we  sorely  want 
to  know  further  is  whether  there  is  any  other  road 
to  a  moral  order  that  can  be  traveled  by  such  men  as 
put  their  faith  in  reason. 

91 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PEOOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

IN  his  novel,  Saint's  Progress,  John  Galsworthy 
admirably  shows  how  modern  science  and  the  World 
War  have  profoundly  modified  our  traditional  faiths. 
The  "saint"  is  an  other-worldly  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England,  who  faces  the  bewildering  task 
of  squaring  his  dogmas  with  the  new  attitudes  of 
mind  well  represented  by  his  worldly-wise  son-in- 
law,  a  physician.  For  this  latter  spokesman  of  a 
modern  era,  science  is  the  only  test  of  truth;  and 
for  him  science  and  demonstrable  reason  are  identi- 
cal. He  is  thoroughly  aware  that  this  reason  has  its 
limits,  that  there  are  matters  it  cannot  solve;  but 
he  does  insist  that  "it's  the  highest  test  we  can  ap- 
ply; and  that  behind  that  test  all  is  quite  dark  and 
unknowable." 

This  is  the  typical  attitude  of  the  contemporary 
man.  Science  is  all  we  have.  We  must  rely  upon 
reason,  must  we  not?  As  for  any  other  way  to  truth, 
the  door  seems  closed.  The  contemporary  man  is 
at  one  with  the  further  challenge  of  Galsworthy's 
honest  rationalist  when  he  says  further:  "If  you 
want  me  to  enter  a  temple  of  little  mysteries,  leav- 
ing my  reason  and  senses  behind — as  a  Mohamme- 

92 


PKOOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

dan  leaves  his  shoes — it  won't  do  to  say  to  me 
simply:  'There  it  is!  Enter  1'  You  must  show  me 
the  door;  and  you  can't!" 

We  may  as  well  accept  this  challenge.  We  must 
show  that  verily  there  is  a  door,  and  that  it  leads 
not  to  the  little  mysteries,  but  to  the  great  verities 
themselves. 


The  contemporary  man  is  perfectly  right  when  he 
insists  that  we  must  rely  upon  reason  for  our  con- 
victions, and  that  this  reason  must  be  cogent.  What- 
ever else  our  age  may  develop,  it  will  still  be  an  age 
of  reason.  But  our  novelist's  modern  spokesman, 
like  many  of  us,  in  his  zeal  for  reason  has  made  one 
irrational  assumption  in  spite  of  himself, — the 
common  assumption  that  the  ways  of  reason  and 
the  ways  of  science  are  identical;  that  when 
science  has  had  its  say,  reason  also  has  had  its 
last  word. 

But  while  reason  includes  the  reason  of  science 
and,  indeed,  creates  it,  there  is  just  a  bare  possibility 
that  the  reasoning  methods  used  in  what  we  call 
science  are  not  the  only  reasoning  methods  there 
are.  It  is  just  possible  that  the  alternatives  are  not 
science  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  irrational  faith  of 
Galsworthy's  saint  on  the  other.  It  may  be  that  we 
can  go  beyond  the  limits  of  science  and  still  remain 
within  the  limits  of  reason ;  a  reason  just  as  exact, 

93 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

just  as  conclusive,  as  science 's  reason  ever  was.  To 
say  this  is  not  to  prove  it ;  but  it  may  be  so. 

The  fact  is,  every  expert  logician  knows  that  the 
ways  of  reasoning  used  in  science  do  not  exhaust 
reason;  that  one  may  accurately  and  rationally 
demonstrate  things  that  conventional  science  does 
not  at  all  touch ;  that  there  are  perfectly  reasonable 
human  aims  that  do  not  happen  to  belong  to  science's 
particular  province,  and  logical  methods  not  perti- 
nent to  the  special  tasks  of  science,  yet  just  as  de- 
cisive and  defensible. 

It  is  possible  to  show  this  conclusively.  But,  be- 
fore doing  so,  I  wish  to  note  that  there  is  every  pre- 
sumption in  favor  of  it;  that,  otherwise,  our  lives 
as  well  as  our  sciences  would  be  somewhat  absurd. 

Certain  it  is  that  most  of  the  things  we  think  we 
know  well  enough  to  stake  our  lives  upon  them  were 
never  proved  by  science  and  never  can  be  proved  by 
science.  That  I  am  I,  the  same  self  this  morning 
that  went  to  sleep  last  night,  no  scientific  laboratory 
ever  proved  or  could  prove.  That  life  is  worth 
while;  that  an  exalted  friendship  is  a  noble  thing; 
that  one  loves  his  beloved;  that  some  causes  are 
worthy  of  sacrifice  and  death;  that  the  Venus  de 
Milo  is  beautiful, — no  one  ever  goes  to  science  for 
the  proof  of  such  things.  To  which  of  the  sciences 
would  one  appeal  on  such  a  quest!  Physics? 
Astronomy?  Sociology?  And  yet  we,  including  the 
scientist,  act  as  though  we  knew  these  things  much 
better  than  even  the  formulas  of  scientific  labora- 

94 


PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

tories.  Such  truths  give  their  character  to  whole 
civilizations.  For  such  truths  men  are  sometimes 
willing  to  die;  whereas,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find 
a  sane  person  willing  to  die  for  the  First  Law  of 
Motion,  or  a  chemical  analysis. 

If  the  scientifically-minded  man  replies  that  we 
do  not  and  cannot  "know"  such  things  in  the  sense 
of  proving  them,  he  has  suddenly  put  most  of  our 
knowledge  outside  the  realm  of  proof,  and  has  con- 
fessed how  little  what  we  call  ''proof"  is  worth  to 
him  and  to  all  men  who  still  believe  these  things. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  insists  that  such  matters 
are  provable,  he  has  admitted  that  there  are  ways  of 
proof  that  science  does  not  use  within  its  field, — 
which  is  precisely  what  I  intended  to  show.  Or,  if 
one  is  scientifically  radical  enough  to  say  that  these 
matters  are  not  only  unknowable,  but  just  for  that 
reason  not  certain  in  any  sense;  that  I  can  by  no 
rational  way  be  assured  that  I  am  I,  or  that  life  is 
worth  while,  or  that  there  are  causes  worthy  of 
sacrifice,  then  let  us  see  at  once  that  such  a  scientific 
radical  has  disposed  of  one  problem  only  to  become 
involved  in  a  still  deeper  one,  a  difficulty  fatal  to 
that  very  science  in  which  he  places  his  uttermost 
faith.  For  if  every  truth  must  be  proved  by  the 
demonstrations  of  science  before  it  is  really  certain, 
what  about  the  mass  of  well-known  assumptions  that 
science  makes  before  it  can  even  begin  the  business 
of  scientific  investigation,  assumptions  that  science 
makes  but  does  not  prove;  assumptions  said  to  be 

95 


THE  TEUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

at  the  basis  of  all  science,  and  yet  never  demon- 
strated in  any  scientific  laboratory!  Every  science 
has  such  assumptions  which  it  does  not  even  pro- 
fess to  prove.  For  instance,  every  science  assumes 
the  Law  of  Universal  Causation,  that  every  event 
has  an  adequate  cause;  yet  no  science  proves  it; 
rather  is  it  held  to  be  the  presupposition  of  all 
science.  In  his  Limits  of  Evolution,  Howison  has 
well  shown  the  assumptions  back  of  evolution, 
assumptions  which  no  biologist  considers  within 
his  business  to  demonstrate;  as,  the  assumptions 
of  time  and  space,  which  are  themselves  not  prod- 
ucts of  evolution  surely, — what  an  absurdity  it  were 
to  say  that  there  was  a  time  when  time  was  not! 
No,  these,  with  many  other  presuppositions,  must 
be  first  assumed  to  make  evolution  in  the  least  pos- 
sible. Or,  take  the  assumption  made  by  all  science 
that  the  fundamental  character  of  the  universe  will 
be  the  same  to-morrow  as  yesterday,  and  the  same 
elsewhere  as  here,  sometimes  called  the  Law  of  the 
Uniformity  of  Nature;  what  scientist  ever  proved 
this?  Yet,  what  scientist  thinks  he  could  get  along 
without  it? 

Precisely  because  of  these  assumptions  which 
science  itself  does  not  prove,  but  uses  as  "working 
hypotheses,"  the  scientist  must  say  either  that  there 
is  some  method  of  demonstration  outside  the  limits 
of  science,  by  which  these  or  kindred  assumptions 
may  be  proved,  or  that  they  are  not  known  or  cer- 
tain at  all, — which  all  at  once  makes  the  super- 

96 


structure  of  science  as  fearfully  uncertain  as  these, 
its  foundations.  Nor  can  one  find  refuge  in  the 
plea  that  these  assumptions,  while  not  absolutely 
proved  by  science,  are  made  at  least  probable  by 
scientific  method.  For,  back  of  the  assumption  of 
even  the  probability  of  such  a  law  as  that  every 
event  has  a  cause  is  the  assumption  of  other  cer- 
tainties without  which  no  truth  can  be  even  probable, 
— as  the  assumption  that  nature  is  everywhere  and 
for  all  time  uniform.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
scientist  does  not  act  as  though  he  believed  that  it 
is  only  ' 'probable'*  that  a  given  event  has  a  cause. 
While  he  is  working,  he  assumes  it  as  an  absolute 
certainty  and  goes  about  resolutely  to  find  the 
cause,  with  no  doubt  whatever  that  however  often 
he  may  meet  with  failure,  the  cause  is  somewhere 
to  be  found. 

Is  it  not  much  more  reasonable,  therefore,  to  say 
that  the  assumptions  actually  necessary  for  science 
are  not  mere  guesses ;  that  they  can  be  really  demon- 
strated as  probable  or  certain;  and  that,  since  no 
scientific  laboratory  can  do  this  sort  of  thing,  there 
are  rational  methods  of  arriving  at  such  truths  other 
than  those  restricted  to  the  realm  of  science  itself? 
This  would  save  science,  and  liberate  reason  for 
other  tasks  than  those  that  science  has  set  for  itself. 
Is  there  not  a  suspicion  at  least  that  this  is  a  possi- 
bility? 

All  that  I  am  doing  now  is  to  arouse  a  mere  sus- 
picion that  there  are  other  ways  of  reasonable  proof 

97 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

than  the  ways  used  by  what  we  call  science ;  that  it 
is  unreasonable  merely  to  assume  that  science  and 
reason  are  identical.  I  have  shown  what  would 
happen  to  our  commonest  beliefs  as  well  as  to 
science  itself  if  such  a  view  were  carried  to  its  logi- 
cal conclusion.  But  it  remains  to  remark  that  if 
there  be  no  rational  knowledge  outside  science,  there 
can  be  no  such  thing  as  morals,  no  such  thing  as  a 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong.  For,  again, 
science  has  to  do  only  with  what  is,  never  with  the 
demonstration  of  what  ought  to  be.  And  yet  we 
need  such  a  demonstration.  Truly  the  moral  ideals 
for  which  we  suffer  cannot  be  thought  of  by  us  as 
mere  guesses!  A  rational  man  does  not  choose 
heroically  to  live  and  heroically  to  die  for  what  he 
is  convinced  is  a  mere  conjecture !  Moral  faith  must 
be  rational  in  order  to  abide.  Is  this  call  for  proof 
in  vain  because  science  cannot  give  it?  Once  more, 
is  there  not  at  least  a  suspicion  awakened  that,  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  sciences,  reason  has  still  great 
and  legitimate  tasks  to  perform? 

Yet  scientists  in  particular  and  the  modem  man 
in  general  look  upon  any  such  enterprise  with  a 
justifiable  suspicion.  The  suspicion  is  amply  war- 
ranted for  two  reasons.  The  first  reason  is  that 
when  men  have  actually  gone  beyond  science  to  at- 
tain truth,  they  have  all  too  often  engaged  in  va- 
garies, sentimental  or  otherwise,  that  could  not 
stand  the  test  of  the  rigid  logic  that  science  is  ac- 
customed to  demand.  The  second  reason,  still  more 

98 


PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

important,  is  that  often  when  men  have  tried  to  en- 
ter realms  of  truth  not  recognized  by  the  sciences 
themselves,  they  have,  nevertheless,  in  the  effort  to 
remain  "scientific,"  borrowed  the  methods  of 
science  and  illegitimately  extended  " science"  into 
realms  where  it  has  no  business,  and  where  its 
methods  have  broken  down;  as,  when  one  tries  to 
introduce  the  quantitative  methods  of  physical 
science  into  the  mental  world,  or  into  the  world  of 
moral  values.  Such  attempts  excite  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  strict  scientist,  if  not  his  righteous 
derision.  They  are  made  because  men,  enamored  of 
the  name,  wish  to  call  their  disciplines  " science," 
when,  strictly  speaking,  they  are  not  science  at  all  in 
the  sense  they  pretend.  This  science-by-analogy  is 
the  most  pernicious  thing  we  have  to-day  in  the  way 
of  the  progress  of  truth.  It  has  done  more  than 
anything  else  to  confirm  the  scientist,  and  the  edu- 
cated man  in  general,  in  the  conviction  that  all  voy- 
ages in  search  of  truth  outside  the  charted  routes 
of  science  are  doomed  to  disaster. 

n 

But  now  it  is  well  to  look  at  the  whole  matter  con- 
structively, seeking  once  for  all  to  discover  whether, 
science  failing  us,  there  is  any  other  rational  way 
to  the  great  verities  that  underlie  our  moral  faith ; 
whether  reason  can  prove  a  moral  order,  or  whether 
we  are  predestined  to  a  permanent  skepticism  on 

99 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

all  those  subjects  that  heretofore  have  been  the 
greatest  themes  of  religion,  of  poetry,  and  of  the 
larger  struggles  of  civilizations.  We  are  not  to  lose 
our  trust  in  science.  Yet  in  our  search,  let  us  not 
forget  that  we  trust  science  for  only  one  reason, 
namely,  because  we  trust  reason  itself ;  and  that  we 
must  trust  any  other  means  of  proof  for  the  same 
reason, — or  our  reason  for  trusting  science  is  at 
once  repudiated. 

What,  then,  is  the  proof  that  is  not  science, — the 
proof  of  the  truths  we  live  by? 

The  proof  that  is  not  science  is  the  same  as  that 
by  which  science  itself  becomes  certain  of  the  under- 
lying principles  upon  which  all  its  own  procedure 
rests, — the  principles  to  which  I  have  referred  as 
the  presuppositions  of  all  science,  and  without  which 
no  science  is  possible.  Nowhere  have  I  said  that 
some  such  presuppositions  are  not  provable,  but 
merely  that  they  cannot  be  proved  within  scientific 
method.  But  they  are  demonstrable,  so  far  as  any- 
thing is  demonstrable.  I  intend  now  to  show  in  what 
way  they  are  demonstrable.  Then  I  intend  to  show 
that  the  moral  order  and  its  great  verities  are 
demonstrable  in  precisely  the  same  way.  Surely  if 
one  gives  a  proof  for  the  truths  of  the  moral  order 
as  cogent  as  that  which  science  gives  for  the  Law  of 
Universal  Causation,  or  the  Law  of  the  Uniformity 
of  Nature,  it  is  enough;  especially  since  these  laws 
are  considered  well  enough  proved  to  base  all  science 
upon  them!  Surely,  those  who  are  satisfied  only 

100 


PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

with  scientific  proof  will  be  satisfied  with  the  proofs 
that  satisfy  science! 

Exactly  how  does  one  prove  such  a  basal  law  as 
the  Law  of  Universal  Causation?  It  has  been  con- 
sidered quite  respectable  to  say  that  such  certainty 
as  it  possesses  is  due  to  the  fact  that  science  has 
never  found  an  instance  to  the  contrary ;  that  when- 
ever it  looks  for  causes  it  finds  them,  so  far  as 
the  phenomena  are  accessible,  and  so  far  as  it  ap- 
proaches them,  with  sufficient  knowledge  and  ade- 
quate instruments  of  experimentation.  But  if  this 
is  the  only  proof  for  the  assertion  that  every  event 
in  the  universe  has  a  cause,  it  is  a  most  doubtful 
piece  of  reasoning.  For  this  pretends  to  be  a 
universal  law,  and  the  universe  is  a  big  place,  both 
wide  and  deep.  How  little  of  the  limitless  universe 
to  which  this  law  is  said  to  apply  without  excep- 
tion does  science  know  anything  about !  How  small 
is  our  scientific  knowledge  of  our  own  planet, 
even  through  our  most  advanced  sciences!  "Every 
event  has  a  cause";  yet  how  many  regions  of 
"events"  no  science  yet  even  touches,  or  touches 
only  vaguely  because  of  the  stubbornness  or  the 
complexity  of  the  phenomena !  How  many  sciences 
are  still  in  their  infancy!  Is  it  not  a  little  more 
than  logical  daring  to  say  that,  because  the  few 
events  which  science  has  been  able  to  understand 
thoroughly  have  been  found  to  have  adequate  causes, 
therefore  every  event  in  a  limitless  universe  can 
be  accounted  for  in  the  same  way?  Observe,  I 

101 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

do  not  deny  it  at  this  point;  indeed,  I  insist  upon  it 
for  the  time  being;  but  is  this  the  proof  of  it!  Of 
course,  the  plain  fact  is  that  even  among  the  events 
daily  accessible  to  us  there  are  many  whose  causes 
have  never  been  actually  found;  else  science  would 
have  no  further  tasks.  Concerning  these  events 
whose  causes  are  not  yet  completely  found,  what 
shall  we  say?  "We  shall  say"  (so  runs  the  favorite 
answer)  "that  if  we  knew  more  about  these  events, 
their  causes  would  certainly  be  discovered;  and 
even  if  they  are  never  discovered,  we  know  the 
causes  are  there;  it  is  only  our  ignorance  that  is 
at  fault.  For  instance,  we  cannot  now  predict  what 
a  given  human  being  will  do  at  a  certain  time  next 
week ;  but  if  we  knew  as  much  about  him  as  we  do 
about  the  solar  system,  we  would  discover  all  the 
causes  involved  and  could  predict  his  actions  as 
certainly  as  we  now  do  an  eclipse  of  the  sun." 

This  may  be  true ;  but  merely  to  say  it  is  not  proof 
of  it.  Logically,  it  would  be  just  as  cogent  to  reply : 
"I  hold  that  some  events  are  of  such  a  character 
that  they  are  not  subject  to  the  laws  of  causation; 
that  if  we  knew  more  about  these  events,  their  causes 
would  certainly  not  be  discovered.  You  are  right, 
it  is  only  our  ignorance  that  is  at  fault ;  but  it  is  not 
an  ignorance  of  causes,  but  of  the  nature  of  the 
phenomena,  which  requires  them  not.  If  you  knew 
as  much  about  a  human  being  as  about  the  solar 
system,  you  would  know  enough  to  know  that  human 
acts  are  not  predictable  as  are  your  eclipses.  We 

102 


both  speak  in  ignorance ;  so  I  have  as  much  right  to 
a  hypothesis  built  upon  ignorance  as  have  you." 

This  answer  would  lead  us  at  once  to  the  real 
consideration  to  which  science  resorts  to  substan- 
tiate an  ultimate  hypothesis  such  as  this.  For  one 
can  easily  imagine  a  scientist  replying  to  such  an 
erratic  outburst:  "If  you  make  assumptions  like 
that,  do  you  not  see  that  you  make  all  science  simply 
impossible?  For  do  you  not  see  that  if  the  scien- 
tist were  once  convinced  that  events  could  not  be 
explained  by  causes,  science's  whole  search  would 
become  irrational!  To  seek  causes  is  to  presume 
that  they  are  there;  and  to  seek  causes  and  their 
effects  is  the  central  business  of  science.  Science 
can  allow  no  such  exceptional  phenomena  as  you 
gratuitously  suggest,  without  admitting  that  a  scien- 
tific understanding  of  the  world  is  impossible.  The 
whole  scientific  system  of  knowledge  would  break 
down.  The  entire  scientific  ideal  of  search  would 
become  a  will-o'-the-wisp.  No,  we  need  the  prin- 
ciple that  every  event  is  capable  of  explanation  by 
adequate  causes  before  we  can  begin  a  single  scien- 
tific experiment.  Do  away  with  this  principle  and 
you  do  away  with  science." 

Such  a  reply,  if  it  is  correct,  contains  a  real  and 
convincing  reason  for  accepting  the  Law  of  Uni- 
versal Causation  (or  such  a  modification  of  it  as  I 
shall  later  suggest),  namely,  that  science  is  impos- 
sible without  it  and  progresses  only  in  terms  of  it. 
And,  likewise,  this  is  the  real  reason  for  the  ac- 

103 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

ceptance  of  such  other  basal  principles  as  the  Law 
of  the  Uniformity  of  Nature  and  the  Law  of  the 
Conservation  of  Energy.  These  are  regarded  as 
laws  of  science  because  science  conceives  that  it 
could  not  exist  without  them.  These  are  sometimes 
cautiously  called  ''working  hypotheses";  which 
means  that  while  the  scientist  is  actually  working, 
they  cease  to  be  mere  hypotheses  and  become  prac- 
tical certainties. 

We  may,  for  the  moment,  accept  these  great  pre- 
suppositions of  science  for  the  same  reason  as  that 
by  which  science  accepts  them.  Let  us  understand 
that  we  must  believe  in  them  just  as  much  as  we 
believe  in  science  itself.  If  we  want  science,  we 
cannot  evade  them. 

But,  endeavoring  as  I  am  to  be  logical,  I  am  go- 
ing to  persist  a  little  further  and  ask  a  question 
which,  at  first,  may  seem  abundantly  foolish.  I 
shall  ask  it  in  all  seriousness,  however,  and  for  the 
sake  of  arriving  at  a  great  truth  that  has  thus  far 
eluded  our  notice.  For  the  present,  I  accept  the 
statement  that  if  one  wants  science  one  cannot  es- 
cape these  great  hypotheses.  And  now  for  my  fool- 
ish question:  Why  have  science  at  all?  One  says 
that  these  great  hypotheses  are  necessary  to  science, 
which  is  only  the  same  as  saying  that  they  are  just 
as  necessary  as  is  science.  But  how  show  that 
science  itself  is  necessary?  Of  course  I  admit  that 
it  is;  but  how  does  one  proceed  to  prove  it! 

If  any  one  has  the  patience  to  answer  such  a  ques- 

104 


PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

tion,  he  is  likely  to  answer  it  in  one  of  two  ways. 
He  may  say  that  we  have  science  because  we  pre- 
fer to  have  it  rather  than  not  to  have  it,  and  that 
this  is  enough  to  satisfy  a  sensible  man.  I  remem- 
ber meeting  a  famous  scientist,  an  entomologist, 
who  said  that  while  in  the  country  collecting  speci- 
mens, people  very  often  watched  him  wonderingly 
and  bothered  him  with  questions.  He  answered 
them  in  a  way  that  prevented  much  further  conver- 
sation. For  when  the  inquisitive  loiterer  would  ask 
what  was  the  use  of  capturing  all  those  bugs,  he 
would  reply,  "No  use."  When  asked  further  what 
he  did  it  for  then,  he  would  answer,  "For  fun." 
This  usually  had  the  effect  of  earning  him  his  soli- 
tude or,  at  least,  his  peace.  But  of  course  such  an 
answer  does  not  state  the  literal  fact ;  it  is  a  make- 
shift. The  quest  for  scientific  truth  may  indeed  be  a 
fascinating  occupation,  but  it  did  not  arise  and  does 
not  continue  merely  for  the  fun  of  it,  and  there  cer- 
tainly is  a  use  to  it.  The  true  justification  of  science 
is  that  it  serves  human  life;  that  by  it  and  by  it 
alone  much  of  the  significant  progress  of  civiliza- 
tion is  made  possible.  By  its  means  nature  is  con- 
quered and  shaped  to  our  purposes ;  cities  are  built; 
favorable  conditions  for  living  are  created;  social 
intercommunication  and  cooperation  are  enlarged; 
and  an  intellectual  interest  is  given  to  life  such  as 
the  race  has  never  before  known.  What  justifies 
science?  The  answer  is,  "Life  itself." 
But  since  our  quest  has  carried  us  this  far,  I  am 

105 


going  to  risk  asking  a  question  still  more  foolish 
than  before;  not  that  I  doubt  what  the  answer  is, 
but  because  I  want  to  reach  the  root  of  the  whole 
matter.  So  far,  our  result  is  that  we  must  accept 
the  presuppositions  of  science  in  order  to  have 
science  at  all;  and  that  we  must  accept  science  in 
turn  because  the  interests  of  human  life  justify 
it.  But  suppose  some  perverted  soul  raises  his 
voice  at  this  juncture  and  asks,  however  fat- 
uously, "What,  in  turn,  is  it  that  justifies  human 
life!" 

This  may  be  as  foolish  a  question  as  you  please ; 
but  it  is  a  perfectly  logical  question  at  this  juncture 
and,  once  raised,  it  has  to  be  answered  in  some  way, 
especially  since  we  have  at  last  rested  all  our  proofs 
upon  the  hidden  assumption  that  the  life  that  science 
serves  is  itself  justifiable.  And  I  am  certain  that 
the  answer  to  this  question  is  a  simple  one,  so  far 
as  it  can  be  answered  at  all.  The  only  justification 
that  human  beings  can  give  for  living  is  that  they 
find  life  desirable,  that  they  want  it.  Beyond  the 
fact  of  this  fundamental  want  one  cannot  go.  It  is 
sometimes  called  the  "instinct  for  self-preserva- 
tion," expressing  itself  in  the  "struggle  for  ex- 
istence." Why  men  should  have  the  instinct  for 
life  nobody  knows.  It  is  an  ultimate  fact.  W'e 
justify  life  by  the  fact  that  we  want  it.  If  any  one 
says  that  he  does  not  want  to  live,  there  is  no  way 
in  the  world  of  proving  to  him  that  life  is  worth 
while,  except  to  point  out  to  him,  by  appealing  to 

106 


PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

his  reason  and  imagination,  that  he  is  mistaken  in 
what  he  thinks  he  wants. 

I  am  through  asking  foolish  questions  and  am 
ready  to  summarize  what  we  have  attained  by  our 
argument.  We  justify  the  great  underlying  laws  of 
science,  such  as  the  Law  of  Universal  Causation, 
by  the  fact  that  we  want  science ;  we  justify  science 
in  turn  through  the  fact  that  we  want  life.  And 
now,  observe,  the  whole  imposing  structure  rests 
not  upon  the  inductions  of  science,  but  upon  a  de- 
sire, an  'ultimate  want  that  will  not  be  gainsaid,  that 
no  argument  will  down;  upon  which,  indeed,  as  an 
ultimate  fact,  all  arguments  are  based.  In  the  last 
resort,  all  the  elaboration  and  all  the  proof  of  mod- 
ern science  stands  or  falls  upon  the  irreducible 
human  desire  for  life,  together  with  the  things  that 
life  demands, — which  include  science  and  all  that 
makes  science  possible.  Grant  that  life  is  worth 
while,  and  you  grant  all  the  rest.  Deny  it,  and  the 
entire  superstructure  falls.  But  you  won't  deny 
it.  The  desire  for  life  and  its  corollaries  are  yours 
just  as  surely  as  you  are  you. 

m 

The  scientist  may  well  answer  that  if  the  truths 
of  science  are  as  sure  as  the  universal  desire  for 
life,  they  ought  to  be  sure  enough  to  satisfy  any- 
body. True.  But  I  add  that  if  the  sciences  and 
their  great  presuppositions  find  ample  justification 

107 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

in  the  desire  for  life  and  its  necessary  conditions, 
any  body  of  truth  other  than  science  that  finds  this 
same  justification  is  equally  proved.  And  I  now 
affirm  that  the  moral  order,  and  whatever  body  of 
truths  it  necessarily  carries,  is  as  surely  involved 
in  the  desire  for  life  as  is  the  scientific  order  in 
which  we  have  such  certain  faith. 

To  live  is  to  act.  For  human  beings,  to  act  is 
to  distinguish  between  actions  as  better  and  worse, 
right  and  wrong.  To  make  such  a  distinction  is  to 
imply  a  criterion  of  right  and  wrong,  which  reflec- 
tion shows  to  be  a  goal  which  right  action  attains 
and  wrong  action  defeats.  This  fact,  then,  of  an 
end  which  some  acts  serve  better  than  others  is  as 
certain  as  the  desire  for  conscious  human  life,  for 
it  is  inextricably  involved  in  every  plan  of  living. 
Further,  once  any  human  being  denies  this  and  is 
so  foolish  as  to  consider  any  deed  as  good  as  any 
other  deed,  he  dies.  For  instance,  for  such  a  be- 
ing, to  eat  poison  would  be  the  same  as  to  eat  food. 
In  other  words,  to  accept  life  is  to  accept  that  there 
are  some  things  we  ought  to  do  and  some  things  we 
ought  not  to  do,  and  to  solve  what  they  are.  But 
such  a  solution  is  a  moral  order!  The  idea  of  a 
goal  or  end  toward  which  all  right  actions  lead  is 
nothing  more  or  less  than  what  we  call  the  moral 
ideal.  Thus,  to  accept  life  is  not  only  to  accept 
science,  which  tells  us  what  is,  but  a  moral  order, 
which  tells  us  what  ought  to  be, — which  means  a 
moral  ideal  as  a  criterion  of  all  the  deeds  that  are 

108 


PEOOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

to  be  called  right  deeds  as  distinguished  from  wrong 
deeds. 

Further  if  (since  life  demands  science)  we  are 
warranted  in  accepting  any  additional  truths  neces- 
sary to  make  a  scientific  order  possible,  we  are  just 
as  surely  warranted,  if  life  demands  a  moral  order, 
in  accepting  any  additional  truths  necessary  to  make 
a  moral  order  possible.  Such  truths  will  be  proved 
just  as  surely  and  decisively  as  science's  great  pre- 
suppositions. In  his  lecture  on  "The  Dilemma  of 
Determinism,"  William  James  says:  "I  for  one 
feel  as  free  to  try  the  conception  of  moral  as  of 
mechanical  or  of  logical  reality.  ...  If  a  certain 
formula  for  expressing  the  nature  of  the  world  vio- 
lates my  moral  demand,  I  shall  feel  as  free  to  throw 
it  overboard,  or  at  least  to  doubt  it,  as  if  it  disap- 
pointed my  demand  for  uniformity  of  sequence,  for 
example."  This  is  putting  the  matter  negatively; 
but  the  same  test  applies  to  the  truths  we  shall  ac- 
cept. Thus,  if  it  should  happen  that  a  moral  order 
absolutely  requires  the  working  hypothesis  of  God, 
or  of  no  God ;  of  Immortality,  or  of  Mortality,  these 
verities  are  just  as  certainly  proved  thereby  as  are 
the  Law  of  Universal  Causation  or  the  Law  of  the 
Uniformity  of  Nature, — or  whatever  modification  of 
them  is  necessary  for  science.  This  is  proof  enough 
for  any  scientific  mind,  is  it  not?  Again  I  say, 
surely  those  who  are  satisfied  only  with  scientific 
proof  will  be  satisfied  with  the  proofs  that  satisfy 
science ! 

109 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

And  here  we  see  a  great  light.  Not  only  is  a 
moral  order  as  certainly  proved  as  is  a  scientific 
order,  but  even  more  certainly  proved.  For  science 
could  not  justify  its  own  existence  as  serviceable 
and  necessary  to  life's  " progress"  if  there  were  no 
moral  order  to  interpret  what  " progress"  means, 
no  realm  of  "things  that  ought  to  be"  which  science 
serves.  Science  could  not  be  justified  by  its  use 
if  it  were  not  useful  to  something  that  ought  to  be 
achieved.  But,  once  more,  the  sciences  certainly  do 
not  attempt  to  establish  what  ought  to  be,  but  only 
what  actually  is.  A  moral  order  is  just  as  certainly 
presupposed  by  science  as  is  any  other  of  science's 
working  hypotheses;  and,  with  it,  every  verity  logi- 
cally necessary  to  establish  a  moral  order.  So,  now, 
unless  these  verities,  whatever  they  are,  are  estab- 
lished, science  itself  is  in  vain!  Science  does  not 
exist  for  its  own  sake ;  yet  science  cannot  prove  any- 
thing outside  itself  that  science  is  for.  But  that 
something  must  be  proved  somehow.  It  was  with 
some  such  idea  of  an  omitted  moral  order  which 
science  certainly  proves  not,  yet  as  surely  requires, 
that  Tennyson  protests  we  are 

Not  only  cunning  casts  in  clay : 
Let  Science  prove  we  are,  and  then 
What  matters  Science  unto  men, 

At  least  to  me?    I  would  not  stay. 

Without  the  moral  order,  which  science  serves  so 
well,  without  an  ideal  of  life  as  it  ought  to  be,  which 
science  helps  to  achieve,  there  could  be  no  such  thing 

110 


PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

as  the  self-sacrificing  devotion  and  valor  which  the 
scientific  seeker  for  truth  himself  so  often  requires 
through  long  and  arduous  years  of  search.  Such 
unfaltering  devotion  can  be  rationally  inspired  only 
by  the  thought  that  science  leads  somewhere  and 
serves  life's  uttermost  values,  a  goal  that  is  not 
yet,  but  which  ought  to  be  and  shall  be.  Otherwise, 
science  falls  and  its  assumptions  with  it.  So,  now, 
at  last,  it  stands  revealed  that  not  only  are  the  moral 
order  and  its  implications  as  surely  founded  as  is 
the  scientific  order,  but  that  science  itself  is  finally 
justified  only  by  the  existence  of  the  moral  order 
and  its  necessary  working  hypotheses. 

From  this  appears  the  true  place  of  science  in  a 
moral  order.  Its  function  is  never  to  dictate  what 
shall  be  the  goals  of  human  struggle,  but  to  furnish 
the  expert  means  by  which  these  goals  shall  be  at- 
tained. This  is  its  great  and  never-ending  contri- 
bution to  civilization.  When  science  becomes  an  end 
in  itself,  civilization  becomes  abortive.  When 
science  gives  us  the  necessary  laws  by  which  all 
progress  must  proceed ;  when  it  furnishes  us  through 
chemistry,  physics,  engineering,  medicine,  and  the 
countless  other  sciences,  the  manner  in  which  we 
are  to  mold  ourselves  and  our  environments  to  the 
ideal  of  what  ought  to  be,  it  becomes  the  key  to  all 
certain  advance.  No  science  can  tell  me  whether  I 
ought  to  go  to  New  York;  but  if  it  is  once  decided 
that  I  ought  to  go,  I  shall  be  utterly  dependent  upon 
science  for  the  best  means  to  get  there.  Thus, 

111 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

science  becomes  one  of  the  greatest  achievements 
of  any  civilization,  once  granted  a  certain  goal  which 
it  serves.  But  ever  is  science  the  servant  of  life, 
not  its  master.  Out  of  life's  needs  it  arose.  It 
should  be  a  passion.  Into  life  it  returns  trans- 
figured; and  that  is  its  worth  and  glory. 

IV 

The  proof  of  the  truths  we  live  by  has  turned  out 
to  be  not  within  the  methods  of  experimental  science, 
yet  involved  in  that  science.  If  it  is  not  the  proof 
ordinarily  recognized  by  the  scientist,  one  might 
ask  if,  by  any  chance,  it  is  nearer  the  proof  of  the 
Philosopher,  the  Poet,  or  the  Prophet.  Our  high- 
way to  truth  may  be  one  of  the  highways  they  tread. 
The  fact  is,  it  combines  the  ways  of  all  three.  It  is 
the  way  of  the  Philosopher,  whose  trust  is  in  reason 
and  whose  most  frequent  proof  of  ultimate  prem- 
ises is  that  what  cannot  be  denied  without  contra- 
diction cannot  be  denied  at  all.  Technically,  this  is 
what  is  called  the  "dialectical  proof."  But  what  it 
really  amounts  to  is  that  whatever  violates  human 
nature  as  it  really  is  violates  what  human  nature 
will  accept  as  truth.  In  the  last  resort,  it  is  an 
analysis  of  what  human  life  fundamentally  demands, 
being  what  it  is;  of  what  human  nature  ultimately 
and  unequivocally  desires.  This  has  been  our  region 
of  proof  of  a  moral  order,  as  it  is  the  region  of  the 
final  justification  of  science. 

112 


PKOOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

It  is  here  that  not  only  the  Philosopher  and  the 
Scientist,  but  the  Poet  and  the  Prophet  are  sud- 
denly found  to  agree.  For  all  four  must  agree  that 
the  only  " proof"  of  what  we  ultimately  desire  is 
an  ultimate  Fact  discoverable  within  ourselves ;  the 
Fact  of  a  desire  for  life,  with  all  that  it  involves, 
from  which  logic  starts  to  reason,  yet  which  it  can- 
not deduce,  but  only  finds.  The  search  for  this 
Fact  is  the  search  for  the  Beatific  Vision  of  both 
Prophet  and  Poet,  found,  if  you  please,  not  by  logic, 
but  by  experience,  and  expressed  best  not  by  logic, 
but  by  art.  In  this  sense,  truth  is  often  expressed 
not  only  by  syllogisms,  but  by  the  great  temples 
and  poems  and  symphonies.  Truth  not  only  rea- 
sons with  Aristotle,  but  sometimes  sings  with  Ho- 
mer. All  great  men  who  have  * 'found  themselves " 
have  come  upon  this  Fact  of  inexpugnable  desire 
and  its  interpretation.  They  went  on  the  great  ad- 
venture, the  great  experiment,  which  sought  this 
Fact  in  its  full  meaning;  and  when  they  found  it, 
they  rejected  all  else  and  erected  all  truth  upon  it, 
whether  it  was  science,  or  philosophy,  or  poetry,  or 
religion.  Inspiring  Plato's  ideal  world,  Paul's  utter 
martyrdom,  Dante's  ascent  of  Hell,  Shakespeare's 
tragic  dooms  and  triumphs,  and  Darwin's  vast  dis- 
covery was  the  finding  of  this  basic  Fact  in  some 
guise,  the  Fact  of  a  supreme  desire  that  would 
not  be  gainsaid,  that  was  the  key  to  the  meaning  of 
life,  that  was  life.  These  men  became  "geniuses." 
Their  souls  were  on  fire.  They  were  inspired.  They 

113 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

were  the  great  experimenters,  who  through  storm 
and  stress  found  what  the  "instinct  for  self-preser- 
vation" and  the  "struggle  for  existence"  really 
means.  Their  results  may  have  been  abundantly 
wrong.  If  so,  we  must  be  very,  very  cautious,  that 
is  all.  But  their  method  of  the  final  proof  of  the 
truths  we  live  by  was  right.  They  came  inevitably 
and  logically  to  this :  If  one  would  have  any  truth, 
one  must  know  that  one  must  start  somewhere.  And 
one  must  start  where  life  starts.  Whatever  life 
fundamentally  and  consistently  and  inexpugnably 
demands  is  true  and  must  be  fought  for,  whether  it 
be  a  science  and  its  presuppositions,  or  a  phi- 
losophy, or  a  religion. 

We  started  upon  a  quest  for  a  rational  and  prov- 
able basis  for  confidence  in  a  moral  order.  We 
have  found  it,  if  we  can  trust  logic  in  the  least.  But 
so  far,  we  have  only  shown  that  a  moral  order  is 
logically  necessary.  Just  what  a  moral  order  in- 
volves has  not  yet  even  been  attempted.  But  this  is 
all-important.  We  have  found  the  faint  beginnings 
of  a  road  to  the  truths  we  live  by.  Whither  does  it 
lead?  Just  what  are  these  truths?  Our  task  is  only 
begun.  Having  passed  the  first  logical  crisis  of 
our  search,  the  most  interesting  part  still  remains 
before  us.  We  know  what  are  alleged  to  be  some  of 
the  necessary  hypotheses  of  science ;  what,  now,  are 
some  of  the  necessary  hypotheses  for  a  moral  order, 
that  is,  besides  the  hypothesis  of  science  itself? 

The  first  of  these  necessary  truths  for  a  moral 

114 


PROOF  OF  THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

order  has  already  been  determined.  There  can  be 
no  moral  order  without  a  moral  ideal  by  which  right 
and  wrong  are  to  be  distinguished.  What  is  this 
ideal!  I  have  already  shown  that  our  age  is  rife 
with  conflicting  interpretations  of  it.  I  have  also  al- 
ready submitted  a  solution  of  this  conflict,  emerging 
in  the  conclusion  that  the  true  moral  ideal,  the  least 
that  one  can  get  along  with  without  contradiction, 
is  what  I  have  tentatively  called  Total  Self-realiza- 
tion, which  attempts  rationally  to  conciliate  all  con- 
flicting ideals.  I  based  this  conciliation  not  upon  a 
guess,  but  upon  a  fact,  a  fact  as  basal  as  life  itself, 
nay,  a  fact  that  is  life  itself;  namely,  the  desire  that 
all  desires  be  fulfilled  so  far  as  may  be.  I  tried  to 
point  out  that  broad  as  is  such  an  ideal,  it  is  not 
indefinite  and  is  not  futile. 

I  shall  have  much  more  to  say  about  it  now,  as 
are  unfolded  one  by  one  the  other  great  verities 
which  it  logically  calls  for,  to  be  made  completely 
definite  and  reasonable. 


PART  H 
THE  GREAT  VERITIES 


CHAPTER  VII 

IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM  FOR  TO-DAY 

THE  question  of  personal  immortality  does  not 
strike  the  contemporary  man  as  of  great  practical 
importance.  "One  world  at  a  time"  is  a  quite 
prevalent  expression  of  his  every-day  attitude 
toward  it.  His  life  is  planned  upon  the  certainties 
of  this  world  rather  than  upon  conjectures  about 
a  world  to  come.  For,  it  must  be  confessed  that, 
to  the  man  of  to-day,  immortality  is  largely  con- 
jectural. In  idle  hours  it  is  a  pleasing  speculation, 
in  which,  moreover,  any  one  may  engage  with  equal 
authority;  it  is  a  faith  to  be  encouraged  in  churches 
and  at  the  last  rites  for  the  dead ;  but  in  life  as  we 
live  it,  it  is  not  a  serious  problem.  So,  as  Wells 
says,  "active  and  capable  men  of  all  forms  of  re- 
ligious profession  to-day  tend  in  practice  to  disre- 
gard the  question  of  immortality  altogether." * 

The  contemporary  man  is  probably  under  a  mis- 
apprehension. I  think  it  can  be  shown  that  it  does 
make  a  vast  difference  to  our  practical  concerns 
if  it  happens  that  death  is  surely  the  end  of  them, 
or  if  it  can  be  shown  that  it  is  as  surely  not  the  end 
of  them.  Any  man,  as  soon  as  he  thinks  seriously 

»H.  G.  Wells,  Anticipations,  p.  343. 

119 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

knows  this  as  truly  as  he  knows  that  it  would  make 
a  practical  difference  should  he  learn  that  his  life 
here  on  earth  would  certainly  end  to-morrow.  Im- 
mortality would  make  an  infinitely  greater  differ- 
ence. The  real  reason  why  immortality  does  not 
practically  concern  the  man  of  to-day  is  that  he 
is  quite  convinced  that  the  question  cannot  be 
solved.  Unsolvable  questions  are  not  questions  a 
sensible  man,  even  if  he  be  religious,  can  build  his 
daily  life  upon,  whatever  he  may  aspire  to  on  Sun- 
days. 

In  all  this  we  hardly  realize  how  much  our  age 
differs  from  certain  other  conspicuous  ages  of  the 
world's  history, — ages  that  possessed  a  positive  be- 
lief in  a  life  after  death  and  built  their  civilizations 
upon  it.  There  have  been  signally  great  men,  pre- 
eminent logicians  of  their  times,  who  have  been  sure 
of  it,  such  as  Plato,  Leibnitz  and  Kant;  and  great 
eras  when  nearly  every  human  institution  was 
touched  by  this  vision,  made  certain  by  a  great  re- 
ligion, a  great  art,  or  a  great  philosophy.  But  even 
if  the  contemporary  man  fully  realized  the  revolu- 
tion in  the  attitude  toward  death  which  the  world 
has  undergone,  he  would  doubtless  reply  that  such 
great  ages  and  men  either  believed  without  proof, 
or  that  they  accepted  evidence  which  the  more 
critical  modern  mind  cannot  regard  as  conclusive. 

Undoubtedly,  on  so  important  a  matter,  if  it  is 
to  be  made  of  truly  practical  significance,  the  mod- 
ern is  not  to  be  satisfied  with  a  vague  hope  or  a  sen- 

120 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

timental  faith.  This  is  an  age  of  certitude.  If  there 
is  to  be  any  genuine  revival  of  interest  in  the  ques- 
tion of  immortality,  it  must  be  motived  by  a  con- 
viction that  the  problem  can  be  actually  solved  in 
some  measure,  and  in  an  honest,  straightforward 
way,  without  logical  juggling;  and  especially  with 
due  regard  for  all  the  facts  which  present-day 
science  accepts  as  true.  And,  again,  the  man  of  to- 
day is  intensely  doubtful  that  any  such  attempt  will 
lead  to  anything  definite. 

The  man  of  to-day  may  be  right.  But  it  does  no 
harm  to  look  at  the  evidence  quite  critically  and  to 
see  just  where  it  logically  leads.  In  doing  so,  we 
should  bear  in  mind  that  there  are  only  four  pos- 
sible answers  to  the  question,  Are  we  immortal?  "We 
must  conclude  either  that  we  are;  or,  that  we  are 
not;  or,  that  we  cannot  know;  or,  that  at  any  rate 
we  do  not  know.  Later  I  will  show  that  it  makes 
all  the  practical  difference  in  the  world  to  our  lives 
and  to  our  common  civilization  just  which  of  these 
answers  we  finally  are  forced  to  accept. 


A  little  while  ago,  in  a  hotel  lobby,  I  chanced  to 
hear  a  discussion  concerning  human  immortality. 
The  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  was  summarized 
by  a  remark  of  one  of  the  group,  uttered  with  an 
air  of  finality:  "I  tell  you,  when  all  is  said  and 
done,  we  die  just  as  a  dog  dies ;  and  that  is  all  there 

121 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

is  to  it."  Just  then,  I  ventured  to  interfere  with 
the  question,  "Will  you  tell  me  just  what  happens 
to  a  dog  when  it  dies!"  The  genial  spokesman, 
whom  I  happened  to  know,  had  the  fairness  to  let 
my  query  trouble  him  a  little.  But  what  he  meant 
to  convey  was  quite  clear,  and  a  common  convic- 
tion, namely,  that  when  our  bodies  die,  it  is  the 
end  of  us. 

I  mention  this  incident  because  it  is  a  distinc- 
tively modern  tendency  of  men  touched  by  science 
to  obliterate  the  distinction  between  mind  and  mat- 
ter, between  the  so-called  natural  and  spiritual 
worlds,  and  to  reduce  mind  to  body.  Mind  or  soul 
tends  more  and  more  to  be  regarded  as  a  function 
of  bodily  states;  or,  in  some  sense,  a  physical  phe- 
nomenon. Partly,  this  is  the  result  of  the  prevalent 
scientific  passion  to  simplify  phenomena.  Mostly, 
it  is  the  result  of  the  popularization  of  modern  ex- 
perimental psychology;  especially  the  result  of  its 
emphasis  upon  the  dependence  of  our  mental  states 
upon  what  goes  on  in  our  physical  brains  and  nerv- 
ous systems.  Psychologists  find  no  minds  anywhere 
apart  from  bodies,  and  it  seems  clear  to  many  that 
every  mental  event  is  determined  by  some  bodily 
cause.  The  very  elements  of  our  mental  life,  name- 
ly, our  sensations,  we  obtain  through  our  bodily 
sense  organs.  Such  subtle  and  seemingly  spiritual 
things  as  our  power  to  remember,  our  most  sacred 
emotions,  the  habits  that  make  character,  are  quite 
closely  identified  with  bodily  changes.  More  and 

122 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

more,  idiocy  and  crime,  which  once  were  considered 
spiritual  defects,  have  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  dis- 
eases of  the  physical  brain,  to  be  treated  largely 
by  physical  means.  At  length,  mental  functions 
have  been  so  accurately  localized  in  the  brain  that 
detailed  maps  have  been  made  of  them;  and  brain 
surgery  has  actually  made  it  possible  to  mend  the 
mind  by  mending  the  tissues  of  the  head!  Com- 
pare the  mental  equipment  of  men  and  of  the  lower 
animals,  or  of  different  races  of  men.  You  will  find 
it  correlated  with  the  size,  shape,  and  character  of 
their  physical  brains.  What,  then,  is  more  certain 
than  that  since  a  mind  or  soul  is  found  only  with 
a  physical  body,  develops  with  it,  changes  with  it, 
this  same  mind  or  soul  is  really  only  a  finer  physi- 
cal phenomenon  and  ceases  to  exist  when  the  body 
dies? 

I  do  not  assert  that  the  modern  psychologist  him- 
self actually  draws  this  conclusion.  Most,  if  not  all 
psychologists,  hold  aloof  from  such  a  sweeping  in- 
ference as  either  unwarranted,  or  as  utterly  outside 
their  province.  But  most  people  acquainted  with 
the  modern  correlation  of  mental  states  with  bodily 
states  feel  themselves  inevitably  led  to  the  belief 
that  the  mind  is  the  brain,  or  is  so  dependent  upon 
it  that  the  mind  must  perish  with  the  body.  Such  a 
materialistic  view  of  mind  is  no  new  thing.  Be- 
fore the  Christian  era,  Lucretius,  the  Roman  poet, 
sang  that  the  soul  comes  to  life  with  the  body, 
grows  with  the  body,  and  dies  with  the  body,  so  that 

123 


in  old  age,  just  as  one  would  expect,  judgment  fal- 
ters and  speech  and  thought  both  wander;  the  old 
age  of  the  body  is  the  beginning  of  the  death  of  all 
we  are. 

Yet,  while  many  moderns  who  are  thus  convinced 
that  mind  is  only  another  form  of  matter  see  no 
other  conclusion  than  that  we  perish  with  our  bod- 
ies, there  are  current  at  least  three  desperate  and 
yet  fairly  popular  attempts  to  prove  some  sort  of 
immortality  within  this  conception. 

The  first  attempt  starts  by  reminding  us  that 
after  all,  even  for  science,  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
immortality,  since  science  admits  that  "noth- 
ing perishes. "  Certainly,  science  is  willing  to  assent 
to  this,  calling  the  truth  by  various  names,  such  as 
the  "indestructibility  of  matter"  or  the  "conserva- 
tion of  energy."  But  when  we  examine  the  signifi- 
cance of  this  truth  further,  we  find  that  what  it 
means  is  not  that  no  thing  perishes,  but  that  all 
things  perish,  except  matter,  or  energy.  What  con- 
ceivable encouragement  to  the  hope  of  immortality 
is  it  to  be  told  this?  Does  it  solace  me  to  be  in- 
formed that  although  all  particular  forms  of  mat- 
ter pass  away,  including  myself,  yet  matter  itself 
still  persists?  Has  such  an  "immortality"  any 
practical  significance  whatever?  Is  it  not  rather 
a  ghastly  jest  to  one  who  is  looking  for  a  ground  of 
hope?  This  first  attempt  fails. 

The  second  attempt,  while  frankly  admitting  that 
individuals  pass  away,  calls  our  attention  to  the 

124 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

fact  that,  in  any  event,  the  race  survives.  Men 
die,  but  Man  remains.  "We  can  live  in  posterity, 
passing  on  our  thoughts  and  deeds,  our  sciences  and 
arts  and  social  institutions  to  future  generations, 
through  which  we  live  again  in  a  progress  that 
never  ceases.  We  die;  but  the  race  is  immortal. 
To  wish  it  otherwise  is  merely  to  indulge  our  self- 
ishness. To  accept  it  is  to  be  at  once  scientific  and 
creditably  big-minded.  This  view  of  immortality 
has  been  beautifully  expressed  in  the  familiar  lines 
of  George  Eliot : 

Oh  may  I  join  the  choir  invisible 

Of  those  immortal  dead  who  live  again 

In  minds  made  better  by  their  presence. 

The  answer  to  this  worthy  aspiration  is,  first, 
that  no  scientist  ever  presumed  to  prove  that  the 
human  race  is  immortal,  that  it  will  remain  on  earth 
forever,  still  less  its  progress  to  everlastingly 
higher  things.  The  reply  of  the  typical  scientist 
is  likely  to  run  thus:  "We  have  not  sufficient  evi- 
dence to  tell  you  how  long  the  human  race  will 
last.  If  you  press  the  question,  we  are  quite  cer- 
tain that  it  will  not  last  forever.  Species  are  con- 
stantly changing  and  passing  away.  There  is  no 
proof  that  any  kind  of  life  will  continue  on  earth 
always.  So  far  from  assuring  you  of  the  race's 
immortality,  we  cannot  even  assure  you  that  any 
race,  new  or  old,  will  be  here  after  a  long  time." 
Another  refutation  of  the  attempt  before  us  is  that 

125 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

the  immortality  of  the  race  is  not  the  kind  of  im- 
mortality men  seek  when  they  ask,  Are  we  immor- 
tal! The  immortality  that  has  moral  significance 
for  men,  and  which  we  are  discussing,  is  the  im- 
mortality of  individuals,  which  gives  them  an  ever- 
lasting chance  of  individual  progress.  So,  the  sec- 
ond attempt  fails.  It  claims  to  be  scientific  and 
unselfish;  yet,  as  we  see,  it  is  not  scientific;  and 
any  view  that  annihilates  the  self  that  holds  it  is  an 
unselfishness  that  contradicts  itself. 

The  third  attempt  is  the  attempt  of  modern  spir- 
itualism, or  spiritism.  The  objection  will  at  once 
be  raised  that  the  consideration  of  spiritualism  does 
not  properly  fit  in  this  place  because  we  are  still 
supposed  to  be  dealing  with  the  views  of  those  who 
hold  that  mind  can  be  reduced  to  matter.  But  I 
hasten  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  although 
speaking  of  " spirits,"  spiritualism  never  actually 
deals  with  anything  but  material  evidences,  mate- 
rial manifestations,  phenomena  that  appeal  to  the 
senses,  such  as  audible  rappings  and  voices,  visible 
writings  and  phantasms,  tactual  and  other  sensa- 
tions, requiring  physical  stimuli,  and  immediately 
evidencing  only  a  physical  object.  It  does  no  good 
to  say  that  the  soul  is  a  "finer"  matter  or  an  "as- 
tral" body;  it  is  matter  and  body  still,  and  no  spirit 
is  discovered  yet.  If  it  is  held  that  while  not  them- 
selves spiritual,  these  phenomena  are  "manifesta- 
tions" or  "materializations"  of  something  that  is 
spiritual,  the  whole  question  is  begged.  The  mere 

126 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

presence  of  a  finer  body  after  death  does  not  prove 
the  existence  of  a  spirit  any  more  than  the  pres- 
ence of  a  coarser  body  before  death  proves  the 
existence  of  a  spirit.  Equally  in  both  cases,  one 
has  inferred  something  one  has  not  found;  for 
every  item  of  the  phenomena  is  something  that 
appears  to  sense,  which  is  another  way  of  saying 
that  it  is  a  physical  thing.  And  if  it  is  a  physical 
thing,  it  is  subject  to  the  laws  of  matter  and  perishes 
sooner  or  later  with  all  material  forms.  Spiritual- 
ists sometimes  lament  that  science  neglects  the 
data  of  spiritualism  and  of  " psychic  research." 
Well,  on  the  the  face  of  it,  this  is  to  insist  that 
spiritualistic  phenomena  are  actually  accessible  to 
scientific  method,  which  is  to  say  that  they  are  of 
the  character  of  the  phenomena  with  which  science 
may  properly  deal,  namely,  physical.  Psychical  re- 
search has  indeed  uncovered  many  interesting  facts, 
to  which  reputable  scientists  might  well  pay  more 
serious  attention.  But  in  all  this  array  of  spir- 
itualistic events,  science  could  never  come  upon  a 
soul  or  spirit.  For  such  events  as  spiritualism 
deals  with  are  ever  in  matter's  world  of  space  and 
time,  express  themselves  through  matter,  as  when 
they  speak  or  rap,  and  are  thus  so  far  only  a  form 
of  matter.  So  I  insist  upon  classifying  spiritualism 
under  the  attempts  to  prove  immortality  within  the 
limits  of  the  identification  of  mind  and  body.  It 
makes  no  difference  of  how  "fine"  matter  the 
spirit  of  the  spiritualists  is  made,  it  is  still  matter. 

127 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

But,  one  may  say,  what  of  that?  If  some  form 
of  the  self,  whether  a  finer  matter  or  not,  survives 
the  body,  does  not  spiritualism  make  its  point 
good?  The  answer  is,  "No";  not  if  the  point  to 
be  proved  is  that  we  are  immortal.  For  the  most 
that  is  proved  by  any  or  all  spiritualistic  evi- 
dence is  that  we  continue  for  some  time  after  death. 
It  offers  no  proof  whatever  that  the  continuance  is 
everlasting.  Indeed,  since  the  continuance  is  of 
matter,  albeit  a  finer  matter,  it  is  the  continuance 
of  something  all  of  whose  forms  perish  at  last  in 
their  very  nature.  For  science  knows  no  material 
forms  or  individuals  that  can  possibly  retain  their 
integrity  forever.  And  spiritualism  appeals  to  the 
consideration  of  science. 

It  is  pertinent  to  remark  here  that  granting  that 
spiritualistic  phenomena  prove  our  continuance 
after  death  for  a  little  or  a  great  while,  it  reveals 
a  life  that  few  of  us  would  care  to  live,  or  care  to 
have  our  friends  live.  Here,  of  course,  we  are 
upon  treacherous  ground;  for  whatever  spiritualist 
I  cite,  many  of  the  rest  are  likely  to  say  that  I 
happen  to  have  chosen  some  of  the  less  credible 
evidences.  It  seems,  however,  to  be  a  quite  com- 
mon belief  among  spiritualists  that  spirits  may  be 
summoned  from  the  other  world  to  communicate 
with  this.  Such  summonses  are  quite  frequent, 
especially  for  well-known  men.  I  wonder  how  often 
the  spirit  of  Shakespeare  has  been  summoned 
since  he  died.  If  he  has  appeared  one  hundredth 

128 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PEOBLEM 

as  often  as  he  has  been  said  to  appear,  he  must  be 
heartily  weary  of  it.  And  yet,  he  seems  to 
have  no  way  of  avoiding  it.  And  when  the 
great  dead  communicate  with  us,  how  their  mas- 
tery of  thought  and  language  has  deteriorated! 
The  Byron  that  wrote  Childe  Harold  now  writes 
drivel.  Some  of  us  have  seen  it,  and  we  are  sorry 
for  him;  and  we  do  not  want  to  be  in  an  environ- 
ment that  affects  one  that  way;  and  certainly,  we 
do  not  wish  to  be  called  from  our  spiritual  labors 
at  any  time  of  the  day  or  night  to  answer  foolish 
questions  foolishly. 

At  any  rate,  the  third  attempt  fails.  Accepting 
all  the  phenomena  of  spiritualism,  one  finds  that 
such  "facts"  do  not  and  cannot  prove  immortality 
in  any  sense;  that  they  do  not  even  prove  the  ex- 
istence of  " spirits";  and  that  to  call  the  results 
11  spiritualism,"  or  "spiritism,"  is  an  obvious  mis- 
nomer. 

The  three  attempts  to  prove  immortality  with- 
in materialistic  presuppositions  are  futile.  That 
is,  we  may  as  well  frankly  confess  that  within  the 
realm  of  natural  science  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
demonstrating  the  immortality  of  human  selves. 
With  physical  science,  it  is  only  matter,  or  energy, 
together  with  its  laws  that  may  be  said  to  last 
endlessly.  I  am  not  sure  that  science  actually 
proves  even  this;  but  at  any  rate,  this  is  the  ut- 
most limit  of  its  assumptions  concerning  the  ques- 
tion. All  else  passes  away,  has  a  beginning  and 

129 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

an  end.  If  all  we  are  is  physical — and  this  is 
all  that  science  can  deal  with — Diihring  is  right; 
there  is  no  basis  of  consciousness  except  the  body, 
and  an  individual  consciousness  is  merely  a  spe- 
cific combination  of  atoms  of  which  death  is  the 
dissolution.  If  matter  is  all  we  are,  then  we  share 
the  fate  of  all  the  forms  of  matter,  expressed  with 
such  melancholy  grandeur  so  long  ago: 

The  cloud-capp  'd  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  that  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded, 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind. 

Or,  as  a  famous  Christian  saint  said  long  before, 
4 'Flesh  and  blood  cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
God;  neither  doth  corruption  inherit  incorruption. " 

n 

So  far,  we  have  at  least  found  where  not  to  look 
for  a  proof  of  immortality.  If  only  we  would  ac- 
cept science's  word  for  it,  and  cease  trying  to 
prove  immortality  within  science's  limits,  and  de- 
sist from  contorting  its  conclusions  to  our  cher- 
ished desires,  it  would  be  better  for  us  and  for  the 
truth.  But  in  abandoning  any  hope  of  a  proof  with- 
in science,  it  is  absolutely  essential  to  realize  an- 
other fact  equally  true;  namely,  that  while  science 
cannot  prove  immortality,  neither  can  science  dis- 
prove it, — unless,  indeed,  science  also  proves  beyond 

130 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

doubt  that  it  can  successfully  reduce  everything  we 
are,  including  our  minds,  to  our  bodies.  Once  that 
were  done,  our  whole  question  would  be  solved  by 
science,  and  solved  forever  in  the  negative.  In  all 
ages  when  mind  and  body  have  been  identified  or 
confused,  immortality  has  not  been  an  issue,  as  in 
the  early  schools  of  Greek  philosophy.  Later,  with 
Socrates  and  Plato,  the  problem  becomes  acute ;  and 
note  that  at  the  same  time  the  mind  and  the  body 
become  sharply  distinguished.  So,  before  we  pro- 
ceed any  further  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  ask  a  lit- 
tle more  critically  whether  the  only  modern  science 
that  deals  with  such  matters,  namely  psychology, 
has  succeeded  in  reducing  our  minds  to  our  brains, 
our  mental  states  to  our  physical  states,  our  souls 
to  our  bodies.  If  it  has  done  this  conclusively,  it  is 
folly  to  go  further  with  our  discussion.  Individual 
immortality  is  then  definitely  disproved.  Certainly, 
the  body  is  not  immortal. 

There  is  an  astonishingly  wide  impression  that 
just  this  is  the  verdict  of  modern  experimental 
psychology;  or,  in  any  event,  that  all  its  evidence 
thus  far  points  in  this  one  direction.  We  have 
casually  referred  to  this  evidence  before.  We  must 
face  it  fairly  now. 

In  so  far  as  psychology  is  a  science — and  few 
will  question  that  it  is — it  attempts  the  explanation 
of  mental  events  through  reference  to  what  happens 
in  the  body.  Concerning  just  what  is  the  real  rela- 
tion of  mental  states  to  bodily  states,  many  psychol- 

131 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

ogists  have  nothing  to  say.  So  far  as  they  have 
anything  to  say,  they  have  tended  to  divide  into 
two  great  schools,  the  Interactionists  and  the  Paral- 
lelists. 

The  names  well  suggest  the  doctrines.  The  In- 
teractionists assert  that  bodily  and  mental  events 
cause  one  another.  The  evidence  of  this  is  so 
voluminous  that  one  can  select  only  a  few  instances. 
Speaking  of  the  relations  between  the  supply  of 
blood  to  the  brain  and  the  states  of  consciousness, 
Ladd  reminds  us  that  "a  slight  increase  of  this 
circulation,  resulting  from  a  small  quantity  of  alco- 
hol or  other  drugs,  or  from  the  hearing  of  inter- 
esting news,  produces  an  increased  speed  in  the 
mental  train.  Eeaction-time  is  found  to  vary  with 
changes  in  the  circulation.  In  the  delirium  of  fever 
the  wild  and  quickly-moving  condition  of  the 
thoughts,  fancies,  and  sensations  is  a  direct  expres- 
sion of  the  kind  of  work  which  is  going  on,  be- 
cause of  the  accelerated  heartbeat  and  the  dis- 
ordered character  of  the  blood  within  the  cerebral 
arteries.  .  .  .  The  character  of  dreams  is  deter- 
mined, to  a  considerable  extent,  by  the  position  of 
the  head  and  the  way  in  which  this  position  affects 
the  cranial  circulation.  Hallucinations  not  infre- 
quently are  immediately  made  to  cease  when  the 
person  having  them  assumes  the  standing  posture, 
or  has  leeches  applied  to  the  head."  On  the  other 
hand,  the  mind's  causal  influence  upon  the  body  is 
seen  even  in  its  effect  upon  "the  nutrition  of  tis- 

132 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

sues,  the  circulation  of  the  blood,"  and  in  general 
upon  "the  healthy  or  diseased  nature  of  the  vital 
processes."  The  causal  relation  works  both  ways, 
from  body  to  mind  and  from  mind  to  body.  To 
quote  Ladd  again  in  a  characteristic  passage: 
11  If  abnormal  digestion  produces  melancholy,  it  is 
equally  true  that  melancholy  causes  bad  digestion. 
....  Irregular  action  of  the  heart,  caused  by  or- 
ganic defect  or  weakness,  occasions  a  feeling  of  in- 
describable alarm  in  the  soul;  fear  is  followed, 
through  the  action  of  the  mind  upon  the  nervous 
centers,  by  functional  incapacity  of  the  heart.  The 
impure  condition  of  the  arterial  blood  which  is 
characteristic  of  certain  diseases  brings  about  a 
chronic  state  of  mental  lassitude  or  anxiety;  care, 
chagrin,  and  ennui  poison  the  arterial  blood.  The 
lesion  of  the  cortical  substance  produced  by  a  grow- 
ing abscess  or  broken  blood-vessel  impairs  the  mind's 
powers  of  sensation  and  thought;  excessive  thought 
and  overexcited  feeling  wear  away  the  brain."2 
Such  are  some  of  the  facts  that  make  the  position  of 
the  Interactionist  plausible.  We  shall  see  later 
what  bearing  such  a  position  has  on  the  question 
of  reducing  our  minds  to  our  bodies. 

Although  vigorously  differing  from  the  Interac- 
tionist in  many  respects,  most  of  the  other  psychol- 
ogists, represented  by  Parallelism,  still  thoroughly 
agree  that  there  can  be  no  explanation  of  mental 

•  George  Trumbull  Ladd  and  Robert  Sessions  Woodworth,  Elements 
of  Physiological  Psychology,  pp.  643-645.  Charlea  Scribner'a  Sons, 
New  York. 

133 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

states  save  through  bodily  states.  They  are,  in 
general,  willing  to  accept  all  the  facts  given  by  the 
Interactionist  to  prove  his  theory;  only  they  insist 
that  such  facts  taken  by  themselves  do  not  prove 
Interactionism  at  all.  Bring  forward  all  the  facts 
you  please,  such  as  I  have  just  quoted,  to  show  that 
mental  events  are  always  related  to  bodily  events; 
the  question  still  remains,  says  the  Parallelist, 
whether  they  really  cause  one  another.  Let  us  re- 
sort to  an  illustration ;  the  number-series  will  afford 
us  one.  Write  down  the  odd  numbers  in  a  row, 
1-3-5  and  on  indefinitely.  Then,  under  each  odd 
number  in  order,  write  the  even  numbers,  2^4r-6 
and  on  indefinitely.  What  is  the  result?  You  have 
two  parallel  series  of  numbers,  for  every  odd  num- 
ber of  which,  written  above,  you  have  an  even  num- 
ber in  the  series  below.  Here  they  are : 

1357  9  11  13  15  17  19  21  etc. 
2  4  6  8  10  12  14  16  18  20  22  etc. 

Given  any  specific  odd  number  in  the  series,  you 
have  a  specific  even  number;  and  given  any  even 
number,  you  have  a  specific  odd  number.  But  just 
because  there  is  an  even  number  occurring  every 
time  an  odd  number  occurs,  do  the  odd  numbers 
cause  the  even  numbers?  Does  3,  for  instance, 
cause  4?  No,  these  are  parallel  series,  but  not  caus- 
ally related  series.  So,  says  the  Parallelist,  are 
the  two  streams  of  events  called  our  mental  and 
bodily  states.  Every  mental  state  involves  a  bod- 

134 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

ily  state;  but  that  in  itself  does  not  prove  that  the 
two  streams  of  events  are  causally  related, — that  the 
body  is  the  cause  of  events  in  the  mind.  If  we  are 
critical,  this  is  a  matter  for  further  consideration. 
In  short,  all  the  facts  adduced  for  Interaction  may 
be  accepted,  and  yet  one  need  not  interpret  the 
facts  as  the  Interactionist  does.  //  a  mental  state, 
then  a  bodily  state ;  if  a  bodily  state,  then  a  mental 
state;  this  is  as  far  as  the  facts  go,  granting  they 
go  even  this  far ;  but  this  is  by  no  means  saying  that 
because  a  mental  state,  a  bodily  state,  or  the  re- 
verse. No  causal  relation  or  interdependence  of 
body  and  mind  is  proved  by  merely  showing  that 
they  are  related.  The  bow  and  the  cord  are  "  useless 
each  without  the  other";  but  the  one  does  not  cause 
the  other. 

Fortunately  for  us,  we  are  not  compelled  to  de- 
cide the  famous  and  never-ending  debate  between 
these  two  great  schools,  for  the  supreme  fact  for  us 
is  that  loy  neither  is  mind  successfully  reduced  to 
matter.  Both,  indeed,  agree  that  for  psychology 
there  can  be  no  mental  states  without  bodies.  But 
because  there  can  be  no  mind  without  a  body  does 
not  prove  that  the  mind  is  the  body, — not  a  whit 
more  than  because  one  cannot  have  a  sea  without  a 
shore,  the  sea  is  the  shore !  Further,  this  is  not  a 
mere  logical  subtlety,  but  is  the  actual  verdict  of 
most  expert  psychologists  themselves,  no  matter  to 
what  school  they  may  belong.  Even  the  Interaction- 
ist most  frequently  hastens  to  say  that  even  granting 

135 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

that  consciousness  is  a  different  sort  of  thing  from 
the  body,  one  can  still  have  a  causal  relation  be- 
tween them.  This  is  to  insist  that  to  assert  a  causal 
relation  between  body  and  mind  does  not  in  the  least 
decide  what  is  the  nature  of  mind.  That  is  left  an 
open  question.  So,  both  Interactionist  and  Paral- 
lelist  agree  with  what  we  are  here  contending  for, — 
that  psychology  need  not  and  does  not  reduce  the 
mind  to  the  body,  no  matter  how  much  they  may 
refer  to  the  latter  in  explaining  the  former.  Even 
if  one  hold  that  mental  and  physical  states  are  two 
sides  of  the  same  thing,  one  admits  by  this  very  con- 
tention that  there  are  two  sides.  To  hold  this  is  not 
to  imply  that  the  mental  is  reduced  to  the  physical 
any  more  than  that  the  physical  is  reduced  to  the 
mental.  The  sides  are  just  as  opposed  to  one  an- 
other as  two  sides  of  anything  always  are. 

And  finally  it  is  most  pertinent  to  remark  here, 
for  the  benefit  of  those  who  think  that  the  evidence 
of  science  is  against  the  immortality  of  the  self,  that 
modern  psychology  itself  insists  that  it  does  not 
deal  with  selves  or  souls  or  minds  at  all,  mortal  or 
immortal.  It  deals  with  mental  states  as  they  come 
and  go,  and  only  with  these.  It  never  even  asks  if 
there  be  a  mind  or  soul  or  self,  to  which  these 
mental  states  might  be  said  to  " belong.'*  This  is 
a  query  it  considers  beyond  its  concerns. 

It  is  abundantly  clear,  then,  that  the  popular  no- 
tion that  science  identifies  mind  and  body,  or  mind 
and  matter,  is  mistaken.  We  may  now  return  with 

136 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

increased  certainty  to  our  former  conclusion  that 
no  science,  not  even  psychology,  can  give  us  any 
answer  whatever  concerning  human  immortality; 
nor  does  it  prejudice  the  possibility  of  it  by  re- 
ducing all  that  we  are  to  our  physical  bodies.  If 
anything,  we  are  led  to  be  more  predisposed  than 
before  to  the  conviction  that  our  bodies  are  not  all 
we  are.  For  it  is  an  absolute  surety  that  if  science 
could  possibly  have  reduced  our  mental  states  to  our 
physical  states,  it  would  have  done  so  long  ago  in 
the  interests  of  scientific  simplicity.  But  in  this 
it  has  utterly  failed.  This  failure  proves  nothing 
final,  but  it  gives  us  hope. 

ni 

We  have  been  showing  all  along  how  difficult  it  is 
to  reduce  mind  to  matter.  Let  us  add  now  that  it  is 
actually  much  easier  to  reduce  matter  to  mind, 
strange  as  this  may  seem. 

First  of  all,  it  is  easier  for  you  to  deny  the  ex- 
istence of  your  body  than  the  existence  of  your 
mind.  How  is  that!  Well,  suppose  you  deny  that 
your  mind  really  exists;  do  you  not  see  that  you 
are  at  once  guilty  of  a  contradiction?  For  if  you 
deny  that  your  mind  exists,  you  are  forgetting  that 
it  is  your  very  mind  (supposedly  nonexistent!)  that 
makes  this  denial.  So  your  very  denial  proves  what 
you  deny.  In  other  words,  to  deny  your  mind's  ex- 
istence is  a  contradiction  and  an  absurdity.  No 

137 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

stich  contradiction  is  involved  in  denying  that  the 
body  is  real.  If  either  mind  or  matter  taken  by  it- 
self is  the  sole  reality,  we  will  find  it  logically  easier 
to  choose  mind.  And  strange  as  is  this  position  to 
the  average  person  of  common  sense,  most  great 
thinkers  from  the  dawn  of  history  to  the  present 
day  have  taken  it.  The  great  Plato,  "the  bible  of 
the  learned  for  twenty-two  hundred  years,"  held 
that  only  ideas  are  finally  real,  and  that  mere  mat- 
ter is  an  illusion.  Aristotle  maintains  at  bottom  the 
same  thing  in  another  way.  It  is  the  vital  message 
of  those  we  call  the  great  idealists,  from  ancient 
Greece  to  modern  America, — of  Leibnitz,  of  Berke- 
ley, of  Fichte,  of  Hegel,  of  Eoyce,  who  reach  the 
same  conclusion  by  very  different  highways  of 
thought.  And  if  the  average  man  insists  that  all 
these  men  were  merely  dreamers,  impractical,  away 
from  such  scientific  currents  of  thought  as  mark  the 
rigid  logic  of  the  twentieth  century,  I  remind  him 
that  some  of  the  most  eminent  scientific  men  of  our 
day  hold  that  even  science,  when  critically  viewed, 
never  actually  gets  to  such  a  thing  as  "matter"; 
that  it  gets  no  further  than  the  mental  states  that 
we  call  our  "sensations."  Its  laws  are  laws  merely 
of  a  world  of  such  sensations,  beyond  which  we 
cannot  go  to  some  mysterious  substrate  called  "mat- 
ter" or  "energy."  No,  such  entities  are  regarded 
as  mere  hypotheses,  assumed  for  the  sake  of  simpli- 
fying scientific  procedure. 

The  reader  may  consult  any  or  all  of  these  great 

138 


thinkers  for  himself.  The  one  fact  that  arrests  the 
attention  of  them  all,  as  it  must  arrest  the  atten- 
tion of  any  man,  is  that  while  we  know  our  minds 
directly  (since  to  know  at  all  is  to  know  with  a 
mind),  we  know  matter  only  indirectly,  through  the 
mind.  That  is,  our  consciousness  is  something  we 
directly  experience ;  but  any  matter,  outside  of  con- 
sciousness, we  only  infer;  and,  further,  to  make  the 
inference  convincing  is  a  difficult  logical  task. 

In  other  words,  if  one  adheres  to  strict  logic,  and 
if  to  be  mortal  is  to  reduce  mind  to  body,  the 
harder  thing  to  prove  is  not  that  we  are  immortal, 
but  that  we  are  mortal!  Not  that  we  have  minds, 
but  that  we  have  bodies!  For  our  bodies  are  in- 
ferences of  our  minds,  known  only  through  our 
minds,  which,  not  being  physical,  are  beyond  the 
physical  conditions  of  death.  Yes,  it  is  far  easier 
to  reduce  body  to  mind  than  mind  to  body.  The 
challenge  ought  not  to  be  to  prove  that  we  are  un- 
dying but  to  prove  that  we  could  possibly  perish! 

IV 

There  are  ways  of  proving  immortality,  many 
of  them,  of  which  the  average  man  is  not  likely 
to  be  aware  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  whole 
problem  is  a  very  technical  one,  and  to  master 
the  reasoning  involved  requires  years  of  train- 
ing and  abundant  patience.  Here  we  face  an 
anomaly.  The  average  man  of  culture  is  not  at 

139 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

all  surprised  if  you  tell  him  that  to  solve  the 
problems  of  calculus  requires  considerable  prepara- 
tion in  the  technical  foundations  of  the  subject. 
This  is  exactly  what  he  expects,  and  he  does  not 
demur.  But  when  you  tell  him  that  to  solve  the 
problem  of  immortality  means  a  mastery  of  com- 
plex factors,  which  cannot  be  gained  without  ardu- 
ous intellectual  labor,  he  somehow  feels  that  you 
are  merely  getting  ready  to  blind  his  judgment 
with  logical  subtleties  so  that  you  may  prove  any- 
thing you  please.  Men  would  not  think  of  debating 
a  problem  of  thermodynamics  without  preparation 
in  all  the  technicalities  involved;  but  when  the  in- 
finitely more  abstruse  problem  of  the  nature  of  a 
mind  and  the  length  of  its  continuance  is  broached, 
all  men  suddenly  think  that  they  speak  with  equal 
knowledge  and  authority. 

The  average  man  himself,  upon  reflection  con- 
cerning even  a  few  of  the  factors  that  the  problem 
implies,  must  admit  that  such  an  attitude  is  un- 
reasonable and  extremely  unfavorable  to  any  prof- 
itable discussion  of  the  subject.  Such  an  attitude 
is  born  of  the  same  dogmatism  as  leads  so  many 
men  to  assume  that  "modern  science  disproves  im- 
mortality" without  in  the  least  investigating  what 
science  is,  what  is  its  region  of  search,  what  sort 
of  truth  its  methods  actually  attain,  and  what  its 
leading  exponents  really  have  to  say  on  the  problem. 
I  have  tried  to  do  away  with  this  particular  dogma- 
tism by  an  appeal  to  the  logic  of  the  facts.  This 

140 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PEOBLEM 

other  dogmatism  that  assumes  the  simplicity  of  the 
problem  of  immortality,  and  the  equal  authority  of 
every  man  to  dispose  of  it  offhand,  I  could  easily 
dissipate  by  a  straightforward  appeal  to  the  ex- 
treme difficulty  of  the  facts. 

Avoiding  such  technical  matters  as  this  would 
call  for,  I  merely  pause  by  the  way  to  remark  that 
many  of  the  great  arguments  for  immortality  are 
attempts  to  prove  that  there  is  an  aspect  of  our 
real  selves  that  is  either  spaceless,  or  timeless,  or 
both.  Such  arguments  become  very  intricate,  and  I 
shall  not  lay  stress  upon  them  here.  Still,  every 
man  ought  to  know  that  if  things  were  not  in  Space 
and  -Time,  they  could  not  possibly  perish.  For  the 
decay  and  death  of  any  object  is  at  least  a  process 
involving  spatial  changes  in  the  parts  of  the  ob- 
ject, a  spatial  dissolution  of  the  parts;  and  this 
change  also  takes  time,  and  the  moment  of  death 
itself  is  a  moment  in  Time.  It  follows  as  abso- 
lutely certain  that  if  any  reality  could  be  proved  to 
be  without  the  limitations  of  either  Space  or  Time, 
it  could  not  die;  a  spaceless  being  could  have  no 
spatial  dissolution  of  its  parts,  and  a  timeless  be- 
ing could  have  no  such  thing  as  a  time  when  it 
ended.  Since  death  is  an  event  in  Time,  it  could 
never  occur  in  a  timeless  world.  The  argument  be- 
comes complete  when  it  is  shown  that  the  nature  of 
our  consciousness  is  such  that  it  cannot  be  thought 
of  as  spatial  (have  thoughts  any  size?)  or  temporal. 
For  if  consciousness  is  either  spaceless  or  timeless, 

141 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

one  of  the  logical  conditions  of  death  is  annihilated 
and  death  simply  cannot  happen  to  it.  If  the  human 
self  is  primarily  of  the  nature  of  consciousness, 
it  is  immortal.  It  cannot  pass  away  with  the  body. 


All  such  arguments  for  immortality  have  their 
merit.  Logically,  when  fully  understood,  they  make 
immortality  more  probable  than  not.  But  I  have 
yet  to  find  the  man  who  is  convinced  by  them.  There 
is  always  the  lurking  suspicion  that  some  flaw  could 
be  discovered  in  such  arguments  if  only  one  were 
expert  enough;  and  the  average  man,  far  from 
achieving  any  real  moral  faith  by  such  "proofs," 
is  likely  to  be  led  to  a  sort  of  helpless  bewilder- 
ment and  despair  if  not  to  downright  skepticism.  If 
these  proofs  were  the  only  ones  to  offer,  this  chap- 
ter would  never  have  been  written.  They  have 
been  mentioned  at  all  only  to  convince  those  who 
are  sure  that  they  are  loyal  citizens  of  an  age  of 
reason  that  immortality  cannot  be  so  lightly  denied 
as  many  persons  superficially  and  summarily  deny 
it, 

I  now  come  to  the  proof  that  to  me  is  most  con- 
vincing; the  only  proof,  too,  that  is  likely  to  con- 
vince the  man  impatient  of  philosophical  subtleties, 
and  yet  earnestly  seeking  a  reasonable  hope  and 
faith  that  does  not  violate  either  science  or  common 
sense.  This  proof  frankly  depends  upon  our  suc- 

142 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

cess  in  showing  that  without  immortality  our  lives 
would  be  manifestly  and  absurdly  inconsistent  and 
unreasonable.  It  is  in  accordance  with  the  method  of 
proof  outlined  in  the  preceding  chapter, — the  proof 
of  all  truths  we  live  by.  In  this  proof  it  must  be 
shown  that  the  chance  of  immortal  personal  devel- 
opment is  the  only  hypothesis  that  gives  the  world 
any  sure  meaning ;  that,  otherwise,  life  is  a  mockery, 
a  contradiction,  whose  values  are  shattered  and 
made  vain.  After  such  a  proof,  the  arguments 
that  I  have  heretofore  mentioned  may  become  im- 
portant adjuncts,  and  so  be  raised  to  a  worth  they 
do  not  have  by  themselves. 

The  argument  with  which  we  are  now  concerned 
is  not  based  merely  upon  that  great  mass  of  facts 
which  forms  the  region  of  what  is  called  science.  In 
the  last  chapter  I  think  I  showed  conclusively  that 
there  is  another  realm  of  truth  that  has  always  been 
recognized  as  having  at  least  equal  importance  with 
the  mere  enumeration  and  classification  of  endless 
facts ;  it  is  the  truth  that  shows  of  what  use  these 
facts  are.  Man  is  forever  face  to  face  with  things 
as  they  are  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  things  as 
they  ought  to  be  on  the  other;  not  only  with  facts, 
but  with  something  more,  namely,  what  shall  be 
done  with  the  facts;  in  other  words,  what  ideals 
they  shall  be  made  to  serve.  Now,  the  important 
thing  to  see  is  that  these  ideals  are  just  as  real  as 
the  facts.  Science  does  not  deal  with  them  at  all; 
but  man  certainly  and  continuously  recognizes  them, 

143 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

acts  in  terms  of  them,  fights  for  them,  dies  for  them. 
These  ideals  are,  after  all,  the  fundamental  realities 
of  life,  in  terms  of  which  the  progress  of  civiliza- 
tion is  ever  judged.  Beyond  all  the  facts  that  we 
know,  we  seek  what  is  not  yet  accomplished,  an 
ideal,  not  a  fact.  For  instance,  beyond  the  great 
body  of  truth  we  have  reached  we  seek  the  truth 
that  does  not  yet  exist,  that  is  not  yet  a  fact;  so, 
too,  beyond  all  the  goodness  we  observe  in  ourselves 
and  in  one  another  we  seek  the  goodness  that  is  not 
yet,  which  is  not  yet  a  fact,  but  an  ideal;  and, 
again,  beyond  all  the  imperfect  beauty  that  nature 
gives  and  man  has  made  we  seek  a  beauty  that  was 
never  yet  on  sea  or  land,  not  yet  a  fact ;  but,  never- 
theless a  stubborn  reality  that  will  not  be  gainsaid, 
an  ideal  of  the  human  spirit.  That  is,  we  live  not 
for  facts  primarily,  but  for  ideals  primarily;  the 
ideals  in  terms  of  which  it  is  our  task  to  use  and  mold 
all  the  facts  that  science  can  give.  These  ideals  for 
whose  use  all  facts  are  found  and  cherished  are, 
in  turn,  the  most  important  things  of  our  lives. 
And  any  ultimate  proof  of  anything,  including  im- 
mortality, must  surely  take  strict  account  of  them  as 
the  most  unquestioned  things  we  know.  No  logic 
that  is  serious  can  ever  ignore  them. 

It  is  well  to  point  out  again  that  the  justification 
of  science  itself  and  its  enterprise  rests  upon  its 
acceptance  of  such  ideals,  which  science  ever  serves, 
but  never  creates.  We  have  found  that  science 's  so- 
called  ultimate  laws,  as  the  Law  of  Universal  Causa- 

144 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PEOBLEM 

tion,  is  considered  proved  if  it  is  proved  necessary 
to  render  science  possible;  but  science,  in  turn,  is 
justified  only  as  it  is  proved  to  contribute  to  those 
ideals  of  life  that  men  insist  upon.  Yes,  the  ultimate 
reality  of  all  realities  is  the  ideals  we  fight  for; 
otherwise,  there  would  be  no  struggle  upward,  scien- 
tific or  any  other.  Let  it  be  known  once  for  all,  we 
struggle  not  primarily  for  facts,  but  for  purposes ; 
not  for  laws  of  biology  or  physics,  but  for  the  val- 
ues these  serve  so  well.  All  our  loyalties,  all  our 
heroisms,  all  our  progress,  are  based  upon  such  su- 
preme values;  never  upon  mere  facts  unillumined 
by  purposes  that  give  them  worth. 

So  it  is  our  fundamental  ideals  that  finally  give 
the  world  any  consistent  meaning.  When  we  men 
do  things  in  the  face  of  struggle  and  sacrifice,  we  do 
them  on  the  assumption  that  our  human  purposes 
are,  in  some  measure,  capable  of  molding  the  world 
of  facts  to  the  image  of  the  heart's  desire;  that  our 
wills  are  not  determined  in  the  last  resort  even  by 
reason,  although  they  shall  be  forever  reasonable; 
but  that  even  our  reasoning  is  a  means  of  attaining 
the  purposes  of  our  desire  and  will.  So  it  is  that 
the  key  to  the  understanding  of  reality,  as  human 
beings  must  conceive  it,  is  to  be  found  in  a  care>- 
ful  study  of  the  inalienable  purposes  of  the  will 
that  make  man  what  he  is.  An  easy  way  to  make 
this  plain  is  to  refer  to  what  we  understand  as 
evolution,  since  we  have  faith  in  that  at  least.  The 
presupposition  of  all  evolution  is  "the  will  to  live," 

145 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

which  every  living  thing  possesses,  sometimes  called 
"the  struggle  for  existence,"  or  "the  instinct  for 
self-preservation.'*  Now,  this  will  or  purpose  to  live 
can  never  be  accounted  for  by  evolution  itself;  it  is 
not  to  be  derived  by  any  possible  means  from  the 
"natural  selection"  of  a  "favorable  variation";  for 
the  will  to  live  is  presupposed  before  evolution  can 
be  conceived  to  start.  That  is,  the  desire  for  life 
is  the  fundamental  truth  back  of  all  life's  meaning. 
And  now,  further,  evolution  has  to  presuppose  not 
merely  the  desire  to  live,  to  exist;  but  something 
more,  the  desire  for  a  certain  kind  of  life.  Other- 
wise, evolution  would  have  no  direction,  no  continu- 
ous trend  of  a  certain  character,  which  all  evolution 
certainly  manifests.  That  is,  evolution  is  not  simply 
the  story  of  more  and  more  life,  but  of  definite  de- 
velopments towards  specific  sorts  of  life ;  the  desire 
for  life  is  not  only  a  matter  of  quantity,  but  of 
quality.  Men — even  some  of  the  lower  animals  in 
crises — actually  prefer  to  die  than  to  continue  in 
certain  "kinds  of  existence  that  defeat  this  more  or 
less  blind  desire.  Thus  martyrs.  Thus  such  a 
heroic  cry  as  " liberty  or  death." 

The  unsolved  question  is,  What  kind  of  life  does 
the  very  struggle  for  life  involve,  especially  on  the 
part  of  human  beings,  with  whom  we  are  now  con- 
cerned? Is  this  question  answerable?  And  then, 
granting  an  answer,  the  final  and  crucial  question 
becomes  very  clear,  namely  this,  Is  this  sort  of  life 
that  man  in  his  ultimate  nature  demands  such  as 

146 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

inextricably  involves  immortality?  //  so,  then  im- 
mortality is  justified  just  as  surely  as  science  is 
justified.  For  even  science  is  finally  justified  only 
through  showing  that  it  is  necessary  for  life  as 
the  human  spirit  undefeatedly  desires  to  live  it! 
Let  us  consider,  then,  very  carefully  the  meaning 
of  this  human  struggle  for  life. 

It  is  indubitable,  is  it  not,  that  an  inevitable  part 
of  our  human  struggle  for  life  is  the  struggle  for 
truth.  Certainly,  a  large  part  of  human  endeavor 
through  all  history  has  been  prompted  by  this  de- 
sire. Of  it  have  been  born  all  the  philosophy  and 
science  that  mark  the  progress  of  mankind.  I  think 
it  is  Ruskin  who  says,  "Where  the  search  for  truth 
begins,  there  life  begins ;  where  the  search  for  truth 
ceases,  there  life  ceases."  Not  only  the  history  of 
mankind  in  general,  but  our  own  individual  spirits 
testify  to  this  desire.  Not  a  man  that  does  not  de- 
sire knowledge,  either  as  revealed  in  his  more  or 
less  blind  gropings,  or  in  a  conscious  and  willing 
search  for  it.  The  next  question  is,  Just  how  much 
of  truth  does  the  human  spirit  desire?  How  much 
would  satisfy  it?  Surely  there  is  no  limit  to  the 
amount  of  truth  man  desires,  is  there?  Ever  at 
the  end  of  his  search,  urging  him  on  through  count- 
less ages,  is  the  whole  of  truth. 

Still  we  say  as  we  go, 

Strange  to  think  by  the  way, 
Whatever  there  is  to  know, 
That  we  shall  know  one  day. 

147 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

No  mere  fragment  of  truth,  however  bold,  will 
satisfy  us.  Indeed,  we  know  that  the  universe  of 
truth  is  so  interrelated  that  to  know  anything  truly 
is  to  know  all  truly.  At  the  end  of  man's  search  is 
the  ideal  of  all  the  truth  there  is,  in  terms  of  which 
he  judges  all  imperfect  truth  as  indeed  imperfect, 
and  so  not  wholly  satisfactory. 

Then,  there  is  no  doubt  whatever,  is  there,  that  we 
men,  when  we  know  ourselves,  find  that  an  inevitable 
part  of  our  human  struggle  for  life  is  the  struggle 
for  goodness.  The  desire  is  often  forgotten;  but 
deep  in  human  nature  it  still  persists,  forever  as- 
serting itself,  forever  tormenting  the  human  spirit 
with  the  sense  of  duty,  however  submerged  by  sin 
and  error.  All  history  is  a  struggle  for  righteous- 
ness, through  many  devious  paths,  through  ever  so 
many  defeats  that  can  never  quite  kill  the  longing 
for  the  good  that  is  not,  but  that  ought  to  be.  Of 
it  are  born  all  prophets  and  their  reforms;  in  its 
name,  however  mistaken,  the  millions  have  battled 
on  fields  of  honor,  in  the  forum,  in  their  own  hearts. 
For  its  sake,  too,  men  have  perished  with  a  song 
on  their  lips.  Blot  out  the  search,  and  the  chief 
theme  of  civilization  is  banished  forever.  And  now 
again,  how  much  goodness  will  satisfy  the  human 
spirit?  How  good  must  a  man  become  rightfully 
to  say,  "I  am  now  good  enough;  now  ends  my 
search"?  Surely  there  is  no  limit  here!  And  yet 
until  the  limit  is  reached,  no  goodness  is  fully  good ; 
it  is  partial,  defective.  At  the  end  of  the  search 

148 


IMMOKTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

for  the  good  is  the  goodness  that  has  no  lack,  in 
terms  of  which  we  judge  all  imperfect  goodness  as 
indeed  imperfect,  and  so  not  wholly  satisfactory. 

And  the  human  struggle  for  life  has  been — shall  I 
say  inevitably? — a  struggle  for  beauty,  too.  Has 
not  the  search  for  beauty  been  characteristic  of 
man  from  the  first  crude  commencement  of  his 
recorded  life?  Groping  for  its  expression,  even 
the  lowest  tribes  of  men  instinctively  adorn  them- 
selves. It  has  been  said  that  the  wearing  of  jewelry 
is  the  last  relic  of  barbarism ;  but  it  has  been  better 
said  that  it  is,  rather,  the  first  trace  of  civilization. 
Stronger  and  subtler  grows  this  desire  for  the 
beautiful  as  the  ages  pass.  More  and  more  regions 
of  life  are  brought  under  its  sway  as  culture  ex- 
pands. Art  is  long,  but  it  is  sure,  for  it  is  the  ex- 
pression of  man's  fundamental  demand  for  life  in 
its  beauty,  that  fashions  mere  stone  into  temples 
and  statues,  mere  sounds  into  music  and  melodious 
speech,  mere  paint  into  pictures,  and  articulate 
thought  into  literature.  The  passionate  search  for 
beauty  is  as  signal  as  the  search  for  truth  and  good- 
ness. And  now  again,  how  much  beauty?  Is  there 
any  limit  to  the  dream?  How  beautiful  does  man, 
the  creator,  desire  to  make  his  temple,  his  painting, 
his  poem,  his  song,  his  world?  There  is  no  final 
satisfaction  for  him  short  of  the  beauty  that  knows 
no  defect,  in  terms  of  which  we  judge  all  that  is  im- 
perfectly beautiful  as  indeed  imperfect,  and  so  not 
wholly  satisfactory. 

149 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

Every  man  desires  these  things  in  his  heart,  not 
as  cold  abstractions,  but  as  personal  possessions, 
as  an  intimate  part  of  the  struggle  for  his  own 
life,  as  part  of  his  very  will  to  live.  It  is  these  things, 
if  attained,  that  would  fulfill  the  heights  of  his  being, 
the  ultimate  vision  of  the  self  that  he  longs  to  be- 
come. These  are  the  three  sides  of  the  one  Ideal 
that  beckons  man's  desire  and  is  the  key  to  his  every 
strenuous  endeavor.  These  things  men  utterly  de- 
mand of  life.  By  these  things  life  is  fashioned  into 
the  likeness  of  man's  ultimate  and  unconquerable 
want.  We  have  come  at  last  to  the  final  and  un- 
equivocal answer  to  the  question  concerning  what 
kind  of  life  the  human  desire  for  life  involves.  Man 
desires  a  life  whose  fulfillment  would  be  life's  per- 
fection in  its  Beauty,  in  its  Goodness,  and  in  its 
Truth.  Anything  less  than  this  foils  the  spirit's 
quest;  to  attain  anything  less  than  this  is  to  attain 
what  every  man  knows  is  short  of  the  vision  that 
makes  even  this  less  at  all  possible. 

Yet,  less  than  this  man  ever  attains  in  life  as  we 
know  it.  And  therein  lies  life 's  mockery,  its  futility. 
It  is  in  view  of  the  failure  of  man  to  achieve  his 
dreams  that  a  famous  agnostic  has  said  that 
"whether  in  mid-sea  or  'mong  the  breakers  of  the 
farther  shore,  a  wreck  at  last  must  mark  the  end 
of  each  and  all."  Our  ideals  are  infinite;  our  lives 
are  finite.  This  is  man's  paradox.  The  law  of 
duty  demands  perfect  goodness;  the  law  of  beauty 
demands  its  perfect  vision  become  real;  the  law  of 

150 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

truth  calls  for  all  the  truth ;  but  what  man  ever  came 
to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  even  after  the  longest  and 
most  favorable  of  lives,  with  these  things  trium- 
phantly attained?  Any  one  who  should  presume  that 
he  had  done  so  would  receive  our  pity,  if  not  our 
scorn. 

Yes,  man  is  indeed  a  paradox  if  his  will  to  live 
is  thus  a  will  for  endless  ideals  that  demand  im- 
mortal life,  and  if  he  is  nevertheless  finite,  defeated 
ever  by  death.  And  some,  otherwise  so  careful  to 
avoid  inconsistencies  in  the  physical  world,  are  con- 
tent to  leave  man  in  just  this  monstrous  contradic- 
tion. But  to  think  thus  is  to  fail  to  think.  For 
reason  cannot  rest  in  a  contradiction  the  least  criti- 
cal, even  for  a  moment.  //  man's  imperative  and 
unconquerable  desire  for  life  carries  with  it  the 
inextricable  desire  for  that  which  only  the  chance 
of  immortal  progress  can  give,  then  to  conceive  of 
life  as  rational  is  to  conceive  of  it  as  triumphantly 
immortal.  If  the  laws  of  evolution  actually  arise 
from  and  are  justified  by  the  desire  to  live,  immor- 
tality is  just  as  assuredly  justified  by  that  same 
desire  when  its  full  meaning  is  made  clear.  The 
only  legitimate  doubt  would  arise  through  success 
in  proving  that  on  some  other  grounds  equally 
reasonable  immortality  is  impossible.  But  there  is 
not  a  single  reputable  scientist  of  modern  days  that 
even  pretends  to  put  forward  such  a  proof.  As 
we  have  seen,  science  leaves  it  an  absolutely  open 
question.  But  now,  at  last,  in  our  analysis  of  the 

151 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

meaning  of  the  human  will  to  live,  science's  agnos- 
ticism is  transcended  by  a  reason  that  doggedly  in- 
sists that  we  cannot  rest  in  inconsistencies,  and 
that  we  have  only  two  choices,  each  perfectly  plain ; 
the  choice  of  making  the  fundamental  facts  of  life 
a  hopeless  contradiction;  or  of  solving  the  contra- 
diction by  the  one  hypothesis  that  clears  the  prob- 
lem, the  hypothesis  of  immortality,  which  at  once 
compels  life  to  emerge  into  a  coherence  that  satisfies 
an  insistent  reason,  and  which  gives  the  human 
spirit  the  only  faith  that  saves  it  from  the  defeat 
of  all  its  valor. 

The  reasoning  here  advanced  must  not  be  con- 
fused with  something  that  seems  like  it,  but  is  very 
alien  to  it,  namely,  the  pretty  sentimentality  that 
claims  that  one's  immortality  is  a  fact  because  one 
wishes  it  or  desires  it.  This  would  involve  the 
idiotic  assumption  that  anything  is  true  if  any- 
body wants  it  to  be  true.  It  is  not  that  because  we 
do  not  like  to  die,  therefore  we  shall  not  die.  It 
is  not  that  immortality  is  a  "fond  desire"  or  a 
" pleasing  hope,"  as  Addison  puts  it;  or  that  we 
"startle  at  destruction."  The  struggle  for  exist- 
ence, the  desire  for  life,  the  will  to  live,  presupposed 
by  all  biologic  evolution,  is  not  a  mere  wish,  or  a 
pleasing  hope,  or  a  fond  desire.  It  is  an  impreg- 
nable fact,  pleasing  or  not,  that  no  one  can  defy.  The 
argument  for  immortality  here  advanced  is  that  this 
very  will  to  live,  when  it  becomes  explicit  in  man, 
turns  out  to  be  a  will  that  makes  fundamental  de- 

152 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

mands  upon  life  that  can  be  no  more  gainsaid  than 
the  will  to  live  itself.  And  this  inalienable  desire 
for  life  with  definite  characteristics  involves  immor- 
tality, just  as  it  carries  with  it  all  the  inevitable 
phenomena  of  human  evolution.  It  is  not  that  we 
want  to  be  immortal;  but  that  whether  we  want  to 
or  not,  the  fundamental  fact  of  life,  the  will  to  live, 
when  made  logically  explicit,  demands  immortality 
as  a  fact,  or  the  will  to  live  utterly  defeats  itself. 

Emerson  puts  the  matter  precipitately  when  he 
exclaims,  "Everything  is  prospective,  and  man  is 
to  live  hereafter."  Lord  Bacon  implies,  somewhat 
obliquely,  this  same  mastery  of  death  by  life  when 
he  says  that  "there  is  no  passion  in  the  mind  of 
man  so  weak,  but  it  mates  and  masters  the  fear  of 
death.  .  .  .  Revenge  triumphs  over  death;  love 
slights  it;  honor  aspireth  to  it;  grief  flieth  to  it." 
Tennyson,  seeing  the  utter  contradiction  between 
death  and  life,  between  the  senseless  ending  of  all 
and  the  human  task  that  knows  no  end,  cries  aloud 
with  the  fine  scorn  of  a  reason  that  will  not  abdicate 
to  such  a  paradox : 

And  he,  shall  he — 

Who  loved,  who  suffered  countless  ills, 
Who  battled  for  the  True,  the  Just,— 
Be  blown  about  the  desert  dust, 

Or  sealed  within  the  iron  hills? 

No  more  ? — A  monster,  then,  a  dream, 
A  discord !    Dragons  of  the  prime 
That  tear  each  other  in  their  slime, 

Were  mellow  music,  matched  with  him! 
153 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

And  Jesus,  taking  immortality  as  a  matter  of  course, 
since  as  a  matter  of  course  it  is  involved  in 
the  least  significant  of  life's  spiritual  ideals,  does 
not  feel  the  necessity  of  speaking  much  about  what 
to  him  is  a  truism ;  only  assuring  those  who  sought 
his  insight  that  "if  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have 
told  you." 

This  is  the  sum  of  the  whole  matter :  If  the  ideals 
that  give  life  a  meaning  are  real,  then  immortality 
is  real.  Otherwise,  Schopenhauer's  conclusion  is  per- 
fectly proper;  the  whole  duty  of  man  is  to  suppress 
the  will  to  live.  And  that  other  philosophical  pes- 
simist, von  Hartmann,  is  equally  right  in  insisting 
that  it  were  better  if  the  world  had  never  come  to 
be,  and  that  the  final  moral  imperative  for  a  reason- 
able man  is  to  end  it  all  as  quickly  as  possible. 

But  men  simply  will  not  end  it  all.  Each  in  his 
own  way  will  go  on  struggling  between  birth  and 
death  for  that  Truth,  that  Beauty,  and  that  Good- 
ness, whose  behests  lie  beyond  the  finite  years. 
Knowing  it  or  not  knowing  it,  man's  search  is  such 
that  he  can  tolerate  no  last  resting  place.  He  is 
mocked  by  death,  so  death  he  mocks;  for  the  in- 
finite search  is  all  he  has  and  all  he  is.  And  for- 
get not  that  it  is  not  a  matter  of  capricious  choice, 
it  is  not  a  matter  of  temperament;  it  is  a  matter 
of  cold  logic.  Cling  to  your  ideals  and  you  cling  to 
immortality;  abjure  immortality  and  really  mean 
your  abjuration  with  all  its  logical  involvings,  and 
your  ideals  falter  and  fade  and  vanish;  death  has 

154 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PEOBLEM 

already  closed  over  you.  But  death  will  never 
claim  or  convince  you ;  for  never  will  you  or  can  you 
part  with  what  makes  you  what  you  are  in  your 
infinite  significance. 

VI 

We  must  be  very  careful  not  to  attempt  to  achieve 
more  than  we  have  a  right  to  achieve  by  our 
premises;  and  yet  we  must  be  just  as  careful  to 
claim  the  full  significance  of  what  we  can  attain  by 
them.  Some  things  that  we  would  like  to  know  about 
immortality  we  must  regard  as  subject  to  mere 
speculation  and  guess ;  other  things  we  may  regard 
as  logical  certainties, — that  is,  once  we  have  been 
led  to  the  one  certainty  without  which  human  life 
is  a  contradiction.  What  is  plainly  certain  about 
the  further  character  of  the  immortal  life  is  what- 
ever is  logically  necessary  to  fulfill  the  purposes 
that  led  us  to  believe  in  it. 

Thus,  we  cannot  lose  our  individuality  in  the  im- 
mortal life,  for  its  search  is  precisely  a  search  of 
each  individual  to  fulfill  the  goal  of  truth  and  good- 
ness and  beauty  in  himself.  Immortality  is  no  sea 
in  which  our  souls  are  lost;  for  its  very  meaning 
as  proved  is  to  save  the  soul  from  such  death ;  from 
such  death  as  loses  it  in  a  grave  of  spirit,  as  well 
as  from  such  death  as  resolves  it  dust  to  dust.  Of 
this  we  shall  say  more  in  later  chapters. 

And  immortality,  if  based  upon  the  moral  demand 

155 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

for  inexpugnable  ideals,  can  never  be  conceived 
as  merely  that  we  continue  forever ;  it  is  not  merely 
everlasting  continuance,  but  that  infinitely  greater 
thing,  everlasting  progress ;  this  is  its  only  reason 
for  being;  this  it  is  or  nothing  at  all.  But  wait, — • 
is  one  to  progress  forever?  Will  one  never  reach 
the  end  of  his  journey?  Are  we  doomed  to  a  search 
that  never  finds  ?  This  were  as  much  of  a  mockery 
as  death!  Mortal  or  immortal,  then,  we  never 
achieve !  Well,  suppose  this  to  be  true,  that,  mortal 
or  immortal,  we  never  finally  attain  the  goal. 
Which  would  you  choose:  the  end  of  all,  once  and 
for  all,  at  the  funeral  of  your  body;  or  the  chance 
forever  to  grow  more  and  more  into  the  likeness  of 
your  ultimate  dream,  even  though  it  be  ever  beyond 
you,  with  infinite  triumphs  for  you  to  achieve  be- 
tween yourself  as  you  now  are  and  its  adorable  Per- 
fection? You  know  what  Lessing  said  so  wisely 
once,  that,  if  he  were  offered  on  the  one  hand  truth, 
and  on  the  other  hand  the  search  for  truth,  he  would 
choose  the  latter.  Lessing  knew  that,  truly  inter- 
preted, man  does  not  seek  an  end  to  his  search, 
but  the  chance  to  seek  forever, — to  find  more  and 
more  the  glory  of  what  he  seeks.  He  is  indeed  finite ; 
he  shall  never  attain.  Yet,  he  is  indeed  infinite,  for 
his  it  shall  be  to  be  forever  attaining.  The  glory 
of  the  perfect  is  to  be;  the  glory  of  the  imperfect 
is  to  do.  Man  is  imperfect,  and  there  is  no  last  deed 
for  him,  nor  can  he  even  want  to  rest  in  quiescence 
forever.  To  be  immortal  is  not  to  be  "  at  rest ' ' ;  such 

156 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PEOBLEM 

rest  as  death  gives  is  only  relative.  To  be  immortal 
is  to  be  forever  finding  new  and  better  things  to  do ; 
it  is 

To  see  nothing  anywhere  but  what  you  may  reach  it  arid 

pass  it, 
To  conceive  no  time,  however  distant,  but  what  you  may 

reach  it  and  pass  it, 
To  look  up  or  down  no  road  but  it  stretches  and  waits  for 

you,  however  long  but  it  stretches  and  waits  for  you, 
To  see  no  being,  not  God's  or  any,  but  you  also  go  thither. 

No,  death  is  not  a  slumber  as  we  so  often  say ;  to 
die  is  rather  to  awake.  As  Jean  Paul  Bichter  writes, 
"When  we  die,  we  shall  find  we  have  not  lost  our 
dreams;  we  have  only  lost  our  sleep." 

These  things  we  may  believe  if  we  have  a  valor- 
ous faith  in  the  logic  of  life  and  its  meaning.  Yet, 
to  believe  in  immortality  is  not  to  have  solved  every- 
thing concerning  it,  any  more  than  to  believe  in 
science  is  to  solve  all  the  problems  of  science. 
Nevertheless,  there  are  many  who,  while  believing 
in  science  with  its  incompleteness,  rather  absurdly 
insist  that  before  they  can  believe  in  immortality 
they  must  know  all  about  it  to  the  minutest  detail 
of  speculative  guess.  They  must  know  where  the 
soul  was  before  birth;  how  birth  united  it  with  a 
body;  just  what  happens  to  the  soul  when  death 
occurs ;  whether  spiritual  communication  is  possible ; 
whether,  in  the  life  beyond  this  body,  we  shall  know 
each  other.  These  are,  indeed,  speculations  that 
may  well  engage  the  reason  and  imagination  of 

157 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

those  who  care  for  them, — and  who  does  not  I  But 
their  settlement  one  way  or  another  is  fortunately 
not  vital  to  belief  in  immortality  as  a  working 
hypothesis  of  life.  What  is  vital  is  that  to  which 
reason  has  led  us ;  that  to  interpret  this  life  consist- 
ently and  logically  is  inevitably  to  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  its  purposes  imply  the  everlasting 
chance  of  individual  progress  toward  the  infinite 
goal,  whose  search  makes  man  what  he  is. 

And  one  thing  more  that  illumines  all  the  moral 
task  is  beyond  speculation.  Since  the  one  pregnant 
thing  in  man's  life  is  his  will  to  live  a  certain  sort 
of  life  that  leads  to  specific  ends  whose  meaning  I 
have  outlined;  and  since  evolution  presupposes  this 
very  will  to  live,  even  in  its  lowest  forms,  man  must 
regard  the  evolutionary  process  and  its  laws  as  an 
issuance  of  this  will  on  which  it  is  based,  rather  than 
regard  his  will  as  subordinate  to  evolution.  Emphat- 
ically, it  is  not  man's  duty  to  ''adjust  himself  to  his 
environment";  nay,  not  even  his  environment  to 
himself ;  but  to  adjust  both  himself  and  his  environ- 
ment to  his  ideal  of  what  both  ought  to  be,  according 
to  the  one  Fact  that  gives  both  a  meaning, — the  Fact 
of  the  struggle  for  that  existence  that  knows  no  last 
defeat  and  no  last  victory.  And  it  is  in  this  sense  and 
in  every  sense  that  we  live  the  immortal  life  now, — 
not  merely  after  death.  And  it  is  in  this  sense  that 
Thales,  the  first  philosopher  of  Greece,  could  say 
so  long  ago,  "  Death  does  not  differ  at  all  from 
life." 

158 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

VII 

I  am  not  at  all  sure  how  far  these  considerations 
are  finally  convincing  to  others.  I  shall  be  satisfied 
if,  having  proved  that  science  does  not  and  cannot 
deny  immortality,  I  have  given  reasons  that  lead  us 
to  think  further  than  the  dogmatic  denial  or  the  shal- 
low indifference  or  the  unhased  skepticism  which 
is  prevalent  among  many  who  never  viewed  the 
fundamental  terms  of  this  great  problem.  Say, 
if  you  please,  that  we  have  come  not  upon  a  certain 
proof,  but  a  proof  based  upon  an  if.  That  is,  let  the 
situation  remain  this:  //  you  believe  in  certain 
values,  ideals,  you  also  believe  in  immortality.  I 
further  hold  that  you  do  believe  in  these  ideals  of 
Truth,  Beauty,  and  Goodness  in  spite  of  yourself. 
You  reveal  it  constantly.  Whatever  you  say,  when 
you  live  as  you  most  approve,  you  live  as  though 
you  were  immortal.  For  the  practical  effects  of  a 
positive  disbelief  in  immortality  would  be  far-reach- 
ing; it  would  not  merely  shorten  your  moral  task, 
but  change  the  very  character  of  your  task ;  that  is, 
you  would  be  compelled,  if  logical,  to  cast  aside  for- 
ever the  ideals  you  actually  live  by.  And  I  know 
that,  whatever  you  say,  you  will  not  and  cannot  do 
this. 

And,  finally,  if  you  still  doubt ;  and,  granting  the 
fact  that  science  leaves  the  question  open,  and, 
further,  that  immortality  is  in  the  least  desirable, 
the  final  issue  is  simply  how  venturesome  you  are. 

159 


THE  TEUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

Suppose  that  to  grasp  at  a  faith  in  immortality  is  a 
leap  in  the  dark.  Well,  as  Fitz  James  Stephen 
says,  "in  all  important  transactions  of  life  we  have 
to  take  a  leap  in  the  dark.  ...  If  we  decide  to 
leave  the  riddles  unanswered,  that  is  a  choice ;  if  we 
waver  in  our  answer,  that,  too,  is  a  choice :  but  what- 
ever choice  we  make,  we  make  it  at  our  peril.  .  .  . 
We  stand  on  a  mountain  pass  in  the  midst  of  whirl- 
ing snow  and  blinding  mist,  through  which  we  get 
glimpses  now  and  then  of  paths  which  may  be  de- 
ceptive. If  we  stand  still  we  shall  be  frozen  to  death. 
If  we  take  the  wrong  road  we  shall  be  dashed  to 
pieces.  We  do  not  certainly  know  whether  there  is 
any  right  one.  What  must  we  do?  'Be  strong  and 
of  good  courage.'  Act  for  the  best,  hope  for  the 
best,  and  take  what  comes.  ...  If  death  ends  all, 
we  cannot  meet  death  better. "  3 

All  nature  is  thus  venturesome,  as  one  of  the  con- 
ditions of  living: 

Never  quailed  the  swallow  over  sea  and  wilds  to  chase  the 

summer ; 

Seeds  that  prisoned  are,  dream  of  and  find  the  daylight ; 
The  creature  river-born,  unassailed  by  doubt,  seeks  the  wide 

ocean. 

Shall  you  be  less  than  these?  You,  whose  desires 
are  not  blind  as  are  the  desires  of  these,  but  il- 
lumined by  a  reason  that  defines  and  strengthens? 
Is  it  not  as  Poe  quotes  from  Joseph  Glanvill:  "Man 
doth  not  yield  himself  to  the  angels,  nor  unto  death 

•Quoted  by  William  James,  The  Will  to  Believe,  p.  31. 

160 


IMMORTALITY  AS  A  PROBLEM 

utterly,  save  only  through  the  weakness  of  his  feeble 
will"? 

Still,  there  may  be  some  who  will  always  think 
that  a  man  can  actually  throw  away  the  infinite  de- 
sires that  give  life  meaning  and  that  demand  im- 
mortal progress.  To  such,  if  such  there  be,  immor- 
tality is  then  not  only  unnecessary,  but  impossible  as 
a  belief, — and  impossible  as  an  opportunity  and  fact. 
For  such,  our  argument  can  have  no  worth.  If  im- 
mortal purposes  involve  immortal  life,  just  as  truly 
does  immortal  life  involve  immortal  purposes.  For 
such  as  do  not  see  this  supreme  truth,  Matthew 
Arnold  utters  this  grim  remonstrance,  one  of  the 
most  eloquent  in  meditative  literature: 

No,  no !  the  energy  of  life  may  be 
Kept  on  after  the  grave,  but  not  begun ; 
And  he  who  flagg'd  not  in  the  earthly  strife, 
From  strength  to  strength  advancing — only  he, 
His  soul  well-knit,  and  all  his  battles  won, 
Mounts,  and  that  hardly,  to  eternal  life. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  MODEBN  AND  HIS  GOD 

RECENT  literature  shows  a  growing  revival  of  in- 
terest in  a  question  which  is  one  of  the  oldest  that 
ever  challenged  human  reason.  Is  there  a  God?  If 
so,  what  sort  of  God  is  He?  This  gravid  question 
always  intrudes  itself  at  times  of  great  crises.  It 
was  to  be  expected  that,  face  to  face  with  such  a  trag- 
edy as  the  world  has  lately  experienced,  the  question 
would  once  more  assert  itself  as  a  matter  of  serious 
significance.  For  a  world-crisis  generates  the  need 
of  a  world- view.  And  it  happens  that  no  world-view 
is  complete  without  disposing  in  some  way  of  the 
problem  of  God. 


The  educated  man  who  has  freed  himself  from  the 
set  traditions  of  cults  is  likely  to  be  rather  cautious 
concerning  any  definite  deliverance  on  the  question. 
Intellectually,  he  views  the  whole  problem  some- 
what askance.  Modern  science  has  made  the  cultured 
man's  attitude  difficult.  In  the  first  place,  many 
suspect  that  science  has  quite  effectually  disproved 
God.  Others,  not  willing  to  go  this  far,  feel  that 
science  still  leaves  room  for  God, — in  an  attenuated 

162 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

sense.  But  the  great  majority  of  thoughtful  minds 
are  divided  into  two  classes ;  those,  on  the  one  hand, 
whom  science  has  convinced  that  the  question  is  be- 
yond the  limits  of  finite  knowledge,  and  who  feel 
that  it  is  idle  and  even  impious  to  attempt  to  solve 
it ;  and  those,  on  the  other  hand,  who,  although  still 
clinging  to  the  enlightenment  of  science,  manage  to 
enclose  their  religious  lives  away  from  their  scien- 
tific interests,  and  in  that  unworldly  sphere  maintain 
their  loyalty  to  ancient  faiths  and  spiritual  needs. 

It  is  not  our  concern  here  to  discuss  the  problem  of 
God  from  the  standpoint  of  religion,  or  even  from 
the  standpoint  of  mere  theory.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
we  are  concerned  with  the  great  verities  only  as  they 
are  inseparably  related  to  men's  practical  interests, 
— only  as  truths  to  live  by.  The  question  with  which 
we  are  face  to  face  is  whether  a  God  is  actually 
necessary  to  civilization  when  it  is  considered  as  a 
moral  enterprise.  The  further  question  of  His  exist- 
ence then  becomes  part  of  an  intensely  practical  pro- 
ject, beyond  all  mere  sentiment  and  abstract  specu- 
lation. 

It  seems  clear  that  if  the  attitude  of  the  modern 
mind  toward  the  problem  of  God  is  so  largely  in- 
fluenced by  modern  science,  our  first  business  is  to 
find  out  just  what  science  really  has  to  say.  Does 
science  disprove  God?  Or,  if  not,  does  it  give  us  a 
God  in  harmony  with  its  discoveries!  Or  does 
science  reveal  to  us  that  the  question  is  insoluble? 
Or,  does  science  leave  the  matter  an  open  question? 

163 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

Before  one  can  intelligently  answer  these  queries, 
it  is  essential  to  state  exactly  what  we  intend  to 
mean  when  we  nse  the  word  '  *  God. ' '  For  the  word 
"God"  can  mean  countless  things.  Not  only  the 
ancient  Pantheon,  but  the  modern  as  well,  overflows 
with  gods.  We  cannot  as  much  as  catalogue  them 
here,  much  less  attempt  to  find  science 's  attitude  to- 
ward every  one  of  them.  I  shall  choose  to  mean  by 
"God"  what  seems  to  me  to  be  at  the  basis  of  most 
of  the  modern  conceptions  that  go  by  that  name. 
Amid  all  the  differences  that  divide  us  into  sects  and 
religions,  this  much  is  in  common, — that  when  we 
mention  "God"  we  refer  to  a  perfect  being;  perfect 
in  the  sense  of  possessing  perfect  knowledge,  perfect 
power,  and  perfect  goodness  or  holiness,  yes,  and 
perfect  beauty,  if  such  there  be.  I  have  another 
reason  for  defining  God  in  this  way  for  the  purposes 
of  our  inquiry ;  the  idea  of  God  must  mean  at  least 
these  things  in  order  to  be  of  any  moral  value  what- 
ever. For  there  are  two  main  ways  in  which  an  idea 
of  God  becomes  of  moral  use ;  first,  as  a  moral  ideal 
toward  which  we  may  strive ;  and  second,  if  not  this, 
at  least  as  a  power  that  in  some  way  guarantees  the 
final  triumph  of  righteousness.  If  God  is  a  moral 
ideal,  He  must  be  thought  of  as  possessing  the  quali- 
ties of  moral  perfection ;  perfection  in  knowledge,  in 
goodness,  in  all  that  we  found  to  make  the  immortal 
ideal  of  a  perfect  self;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  He  is 
to  be  thought  of  as  a  moral  guarantee,  again-  He 
must  in  some  way  involve  the  same  indispensable 

164 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

moral  characteristics,  as  the  very  source  of  the 
moral  order  that  requires  them.  No  being  save  one 
that  means  reason,  goodness,  beauty,  and  power  in 
their  perfection  can  guarantee  the  triumph  of  such 
things  in  our  world. 

n 

When  one  asks  what  is  the  attitude  of  modern 
science  toward  such  a  conception  of  God,  one  is 
reasonably  certain  that  science  has  nowhere  discov- 
ered any  such  being.  Not  that  modern  science  is 
atheistic;  no,  several  kinds  of  gods  have  been 
recently  offered  us  as  being  perfectly  consistent  with 
scientific  presuppositions,  and  have  at  least  been 
tolerated  by  many  scientists.  Most  of  these  various 
conceptions  may  be  reduced  to  two  main  types :  first, 
those  that  make  a  God  out  of  that  ultimate  reality 
said  to  be  beyond  scientific  knowledge,  the  reality 
called  the  Unknowable ;  and  second,  those  that  make 
a  God  out  of  the  Totality  of  Things,  known  and  un- 
known. 

No  one  can  possibly  deny  that  there  are  such  reali- 
ties. Doubtless  there  is  an  absolute  reality  beyond 
science's  limits  of  inquiry  that  is  Unknowable  to 
science;  doubtless,  too,  all  that  exists  must  be 
thought  of  as  a  Totality  of  Things.  But  why  call 
either  reality  by  the  name  of  "God"?  There  are 
reasons,  of  course.  It  has  been  customary  to  think 
of  God  as  the  supreme  reality  in  the  universe,  so 
it  is  natural  to  name  one  of  these  realities  "God" 

165 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

if  it  is  regarded  as  the  most  important  thing  in  the 
world.  Another  reason  is  this;  science,  having 
proved  the  absurdity  of  many  of  the  traditional  ideas 
of  God,  has  been  earnestly  besought  for  something 
more  than  a  destructive  criticism  of  religion.  And 
the  best  science  can  do  is  to  take  its  largest  con- 
cepts and  label  them  "God,"  in  answer  to  popular 
demand.  Speaking  accurately,  it  is  not  in  the  main 
the  scientists  themselves  who  have  done  this,  but 
those  generalizers  who  have  gone  beyond  the  prov- 
ince acknowledged  by  any  science,  and  who  have 
drawn  inferences  which,  while  not  within  the  limits 
of  strictly  scientific  inquiry,  are  at  least  such  that 
science  cannot  contradict  them, — which  is  more  than 
can  be  said  of  some  theologies. 

Neither  God  as  the  mere  Unknowable,  nor  God 
as  the  Totality  of  Things  has  aroused  much  enthusi- 
asm among  men.  Scant  religious  comfort  has  come 
from  them,  and  they  will  be  found  upon  examination 
to  possess  little  moral  value.  Whenever  men  have 
been  deeply  impressed  by  such  ideas  of  God,  some- 
thing has  been  quite  unconsciously  added  to  these 
conceptions,  which,  moreover,  science  in  no  way  war- 
rants. The  cry  of  a  soul  in  dire  despair  "0  my 
God!"  can  scarcely  be  translated  into  "0  my  Un- 
knowable!" or  "0  my  Totality  of  Things!"  without 
a  suspicion  of  absurdity.  But  leaving  the  religious 
side  of  the  matter  alone — and  I  am  not  here  con- 
cerned with  it — these  conceptions  of  God  cannot 
have  the  least  moral  use.  For  instance,  neither  of 

166 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

them  can  become  the  ideal  of  moral  aspiration.  No 
one  seeks  to  become  the  Unknowable,  or  like  it;  or 
the  Totality  of  Things,  or  anything  similar  to  it. 
Nor  can  they  be  said  to  be  of  that  other  moral 
use,  the  guarantee  of  the  triumph  of  righteousness. 
For  plainly,  neither  of  these  gods  can  be  said  to  be 
even  good.  The  goodness  of  the  Unknowable  is 
surely  as  unknowable  as  anything  else  about  it ;  and 
concerning  the  goodness  of  the  Totality  of  Things 
science  can  say  nothing,  for  as  has  been  made  plain, 
it  deals  ever  with  the  question  of  what  things  are, 
not  with  ideals  of  goodness,  or  with  what  things 
ought  to  be.  Science  cannot  even  make  a  God  out 
of  Human  Progress,  as  some  have  tried  to  do;  for 
science  knows  nothing  of  progress,  but  only  of 
change,  concerning  which,  just  as  science,  it  can 
make  no  moral  judgments  whatever.  Any  one  who 
knows  the  self-acknowledged  limits  of  science  knows 
this. 

But  while  it  is  certain  that  science,  within  the 
limits  of  its  search,  discovers  no  reality  that  can 
truly  be  called  ''God"  in  the  sense  in  which  we  have 
defined  Him,  science  just  as  certainly  gives  not  a 
shred  of  evidence  to  disprove  such  a  reality.  The 
most  that  can  be  said  by  science  is  that,  within  its 
field,  it  has  "no  use  for  that  hypothesis."  Such  a 
saying  once  shocked  religious  people,  who  thought  it 
the  same  as  a  denial  of  God.  But  such  an  attitude 
does  not  deny  God,  any  more  than  a  bridge-builder 
denies  mental  states  merely  because  he  has  no  use 

167 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

in  his  business  for  the  hypotheses  of  experimental 
psychology.  Truly  now,  just  which  science  is  it 
that  deals  with  the  problem  of  God?  Not  biology, 
surely ;  not  chemistry ;  not  physics ;  not  even  psychol- 
ogy, save  as  the  idea  of  God  is  a  mental  state. 
The  problem  is  entirely  outside  the  realm  of  every 
particular  science.  Why,  science  does  not  deal  with 
the  idea  of  Perfection  at  all!  It  does  presuppose 
the  ideal  of  completeness  in  the  sense  of  a  universe 
completely  rational, — that  is,  causally  interrelated. 
But  no  science  actually  finds  even  such  completeness 
anywhere,  nor  does  the  presupposition  of  it  mean 
moral  perfection,  although  it  does  not  exclude  it. 
The  only  basis  on  which  science  can  be  said  to  dis- 
prove God  is  the  gratuitous  assumption  that  what- 
ever science  does  not  or  cannot  prove  is  thereby  dis- 
proved !  It  is  not  the  custom  of  scientists  themselves 
to  go  this  far.  The  critical  attitude  of  the  modern 
scientist  is  that  while  science  does  not  prove  God, 
neither  does  it  disprove  Him;  nor  does  it  even  dis- 
prove the  possibility  of  proof  outside  the  limits  of 
science,  provided  that  no  assured  scientific  truth  is 
thereby  contradicted.  The  cautious  scientist  must 
ever  answer:  "Just  as  a  scientist,  I  am  perfectly 
willing  to  confess  that  I  do  not  know  whether  there 
is  a  God.  But  as  a  scientist,  I  do  not  deny  Him. 
The  question  is  simply  not  within  my  realm.  All 
that  I  insist  upon  as  a  scientist  is  that  you  do  not 
foist  upon  me  a  God  that  is  inconsistent  with  what 
science  must  regard  as  verifiable  facts  and  laws." 

168 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

Hence,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  science  does  not  dis- 
prove God,  but  leaves  the  question  utterly  open, 
just  as  it  does  the  question  of  immortality.  One 
reas*on  why  there  is  a  popular  impression  other- 
wise, even  to  the  belief  that  science  is  atheistic,  is 
that  some  of  the  traditional  ideas  of  God  have  un- 
fortunately carried  with  them  notions  that  later 
scientific  discovery  flatly  contradicted.  Some  of  the 
older  theologies  confidently  offered  as  proofs  for 
God  considerations  that  have  had  to  be  refuted  and 
abandoned  by  every  one  who  accepts  the  truths  of 
modern  science.  But  to  prove  that  some  proofs  of 
God  are  fallacious,  and  to  disprove  God,  are  two 
very  different  things.  There  may  be  other  more 
critical  proofs  that  do  not  contradict  science.  There 
may  be  new  and  better  reasons  that  will  rescue 
this  ancient  faith. 

Another  reason  why  scientists  have  been  pardon- 
ably impatient  with  some  of  the  conceptions  of  God 
is  that  so  many  thinkers  have  loosely  used  them  to 
explain  everything  we  do  not  know,  instead  of  seek- 
ing scientific  explanations.  This  is  easy,  but  it 
leaves  our  ignorance  precisely  where  it  was.  Why 
war?  God.  Why  cholera?  God.  The  nature  of 
life  and  death?  God.  To  use  God  as  a  magic  solvent 
for  all  problems,  a  panacea  for  every  intellectual  un- 
rest, strikes  a  scientific  man  as  the  height  of  intel- 
lectual laziness  and  absurdity,  and  as  an  attitude 
that  makes  the  resolute  progress  of  truth  impossible. 
Scientific  impatience  with  such  uses  of  the  idea  of 

169 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

God  has  often  led  unreflecting  people  hastily  to  look 
upon  science  as  Godless. 

m 

Approaching  the  problem  of  God,  then,  we  must 
beware  of  these  dangers,  or  our  solution  will  not  be 
consistent  with  the  modern  temper  and  will  mean 
nothing  to  a  truly  modern  mind.  Above  all,  while 
fully  conscious  of  the  limits  of  science,  we  must  not 
be  content  with  a  conception  of  God  which,  while  not 
contradicting  science,  still  leaves  science  out.  After 
all,  the  universe  is  one;  and  any  moral  enterprise, 
even  that  of  proving  or  seeking  God,  that  does  not 
relate  itself  to  the  stupendous  meanings  of  scientific 
discovery  is  worse  than  useless. 

Is  there  a  God?  A  being  perfect  in  truth,  in  good- 
ness, in  beauty,  and  in  power? 

I  suppose  there  is  no  doubt  in  anybody's  mind 
that  we  have  at  least  an  idea  of  such  a  perfect  being. 
Such  an  idea  holds  the  meaning  of  all  the  ideals  we 
strive  for,  once  carried  to  their  highest  terms.  That 
there  is  no  finite  limit  that  any  man  is  willing  to 
set  to  his  search  for  knowledge,  or  goodness,  or 
beauty,  or  power,  without  contradicting  all  that  he 
seeks  and  does,  has  already  appeared  in  our  dis- 
cussion concerning  immortality.  Whatever  one  may 
say  about  the  existence  of  God,  such  perfection  as 
He  is  thought  to  be  exists  as  an  ideal,  anyway.  I 
do  not  at  all  mean  that  any  one  has  a  Perfect  Idea 

170 


THE  JiODEEN  AND  HIS  GOD 

in  his  mind,  but  only  that  he  has  an  idea — yes,  an 
ideal — of  the  Perfect,  however  imperfect  the  idea 
itself  may  be.  Indeed,  grant  that  our  ideals  of  per- 
fection are  themselves  imperfect,  we  can  know  this 
only  becanse  we  can  judge  them  in  the  light  of  the 
perfection  that  we  seek  and  of  which,  therefore,  we 
mnst  have  some  idea.  Take  the  ideal  of  perfect 
knowledge,  for  an  instance.  No  one  knows  what 
perfect  knowledge  would  he  like;  bnt  it  is,  neverthe- 
less, the  infinite  goal  of  all  our  search  for  truth.  If 
we  are  certain  that  our  knowledge  grows  from  year 
to  year,  from  age  to  age,  it  can  be  only  because  we 
know  growth  in  knowledge  when  we  see  it;  but  such 
growth,  such  progress  toward  the  goal,  can  be  tested 
and  made  sure  only  through  the  possession  by  man's 
spirit  of  the  ideal  of  the  goal  of  knowledge  itself, 
a  knowledge  that  is  ideally  complete  and  knows  no 
errors ;  in  terms  of  which  all  progress  in  truth  is 
judged  and  all  errors  are  rectified.  If  man  does 
that  miraculous  thing,  corrects  his  own  errors, 
guides  and  judges  his  own  progress  in  the  search 
for  truth,  he  must  verily  have  within  him  the  stand- 
ard  of  truth,  an  imperfect  idea  of  some  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  complete  truth  that  he  seeks.  Or, 
his  search  is  meaningless.  Should  science  deny  this, 
its  very  denial  would  be  made  possible  only  by  as- 
suming the  very  thing  it  denies;  namely,  that  we 
possess  some  ideal  of  perfect  truth,  in  terms  of  which 
all  denials  of  error,  including  even  this,  are  made. 
So  perfect  truth  is  real  as  an  ideal  at  any  rate. 

in 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

So  is  perfect  goodness.  All  moral  progress  is 
known  to  be  progress  only  because  we  think  of  it  as 
approximating  nearer  and  nearer  to  an  ever-reced- 
ing goal  of  the  goodness  that  is  perfect.  Without 
some  idea  of  this  perfect  goodness,  we  could  not 
talk  of  progress  toward  it  at  all.  This  goodness  that 
will  suffer  no  defeat  speaks  to  us  through  conscience, 
even  when  conscience  is  mistaken;  and  through  it 
conscience  is  educated  and  refined.  It  speaks  to  us 
through  every  moral  sacrifice,  all  retracing  of  steps 
for  the  sake  of  that  which  is  not  yet  and  which, 
nevertheless,  imperatively  rules  all  that  we  are  and 
hope  to  be.  Whether  there  be  a  good  God  or  not, 
perfect  goodness  itself  exists  as  an  ideal  beyond  a 
peradventure.  And  the  same  may  be  said  of  all  else 
that  we  fundamentally  seek,  such  as  the  beauty  that 
will  never  let  us  rest,  and  the  power  our  weakness 
aspires  to  with  all  its  strength. 

We  come  then  to  this:  What  I  have  defined  as 
God  we  actually  seek  as  an  ideal, — whether  we  care 
to  call  it  God  or  not.  We  seek  Something  of  perfect 
goodness,  truth,  beauty,  and  power.  To  say  that 
man  will  never  reach  a  place  where,  short  of  com- 
pleteness, he  can  abandon  his  search  and  say,  "It 
is  done,"  is  to  reveal  of  what  sort  his  ideal  is.  Any 
denial  of  it  is  verbal;  his  activities  and  sacrifices 
ceaselessly  affirm  it  in  spite  of  all  that  he  can 
say. 

Now,  this  Something  that  we  seek  is  that  which 
would,  if  once  attained,  completely  realize  ourselves, 

172 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

fulfill  ourselves,  make  ourselves  whole,  satisfy  our 
every  yearning  to  become  that  which  we  are  not. 
That  is,  deeply  seen,  the  moral  ideal  is  not  merely 
something  which  you  wish  to  possess  as  something 
external  to  you,  but  it  is  something  that  you  wish  to 
become.  Unless  growth  in  truth  or  goodness  is  in  the 
last  resort  your  growth,  whatever  else  it  is,  it  is 
meaningless.  The  ideal  is  yourself  and  every  man 
carried  to  his  highest  terms.  In  other  words,  being 
imperfect  persons,  all  of  us,  we  seek  an  ideal  which, 
when  interpreted,  is  the  conception  of  what  it  would 
be  to  be  a  Perfect  Person.  For  a  person  to  seek  an 
impersonal  ideal  is  a  contradiction.  It  is  moral 
suicide.  To  seek  ideals  is  to  seek  nothing  else  than 
self -fulfillment, — which  may  as  much  as  you  please 
involve  the  fulfillment  of  others,  too,  but  must  not 
annihilate  you,  or  your  search  is  your  search  no 
longer.  We  persons,  then,  seek  to  fulfill  ourselves  in 
an  ideal  of  a  Perfect  Person,  perfect  in  all  the  ways 
in  which  we  seek  completeness. 

But  to  prove  that  we  actually  possess  an  ideal  of 
the  Perfect  Person  is  not  yet  to  prove  God,  unless 
we  are  among  those  who  are  satisfied  with  think- 
ing of  God  as  a  mere  ideal.  Some  have  been  so  satis- 
fied. And  if  there  were  actually  no  other  sense  in 
which  God  is  real,  even  then  we  would  possess  some- 
thing of  infinite  value,  an  ultimately  priceless  thing, 
a  test  and  transformer  of  civilization,  to  which,  even 
if  only  a  thought  in  the  mind,  we  could  exclaim  with 
every  aspiration  of  the  human  spirit, 

173 


0  thou  immortal  deity, 
Whose  throne  is  in  the  depth  of  human  thought. 


Yet,  most  people  aspire  further.  They  cannot 
be  content  to  think  of  God  as  finally  reduced  to  only 
"my  ideal."  Nay,  that  were  but  the  shadow  of  God ; 
He  vanishes  into  nought,  a  fantasy,  a  dream.  And 
it  may  be  well  to  pause  here  long  enough  to  point 
out  that  even  the  God  we  have  thus  far  reached  is 
more — far  more — than  just  "my  ideal."  It  is  my 
ideal  in  the  sense  that  it  is  in  me;  but  it  would  be 
much  more  correct  to  say  that  even  as  an  idea  it 
possesses  me  more  than  I  possess  it.  Indeed,  in  a 
very  real  sense,  it  is  independent  of  me  and  of  what 
I  think.  Or,  if  you  wish,  its  significance  is  not  that 
I  think  it,  but  that  I  have  to  think  it;  not  that  I  live 
in  terms  of  it,  but  that  I  cannot  avoid  doing  so.  In 
this  sense,  it  is  more  than  I  and  independent  of 
me.  For  instance,  the  ideal  of  truth  is  not  merely 
my  private  property  or  yours.  Before  we  were 
born,  truth's  laws  of  logic  were;  after  we  die,  they 
still  shall  be.  I  do  not  capriciously  make  the  ideal  of 
logic;  and  I  cannot  unmake  it,  any  more  than  I  can 
unmake  a  mathematical  axiom.  The  ideal  of  perfec- 
tion always  was  and  always  will  be  wherever  there 
is  a  mind.  It  is  the  one  eternal  thing  that  no  mind 
can  deny  without  denying  itself.  Wherever  ideas 
are,  there  it  is.  "But  if  God  is  not  thus  reduced  to 
merely  my  ideal,  at  any  rate  He  is  reduced  to  merely 
an  ideal  or,  at  best,  the  ideal."  Suppose  this  were 

174 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

the  end  of  the  story.  What  a  wonderful  thing  the 
belief  in  God  still  would  be!  How  loyalty  to  Him 
would  transform  life !  How  conviction  in  the  reality 
of  God,  even  if  only  as  a  "far  off  divine  event  toward 
which  the  whole  creation  moves, ' '  would  transfigure 
the  universe !  The  Ideal  of  all  we  are  and  hope  to 
be  can  be  thought  of  as  no  shadow ;  it  is  the  central 
reality.  Even  if  we  could  induce  men  to  believe  in 
God  only  in  so  far,  morals  would  be  just  so  far 
saved,  moral  confidence  would  live  again,  and  moral 
heroism  be  made  almost  reasonable, — not  the  mere 
fanaticism  of  dreamers  and  of  fools. 

IV 

Still,  the  insistent  question  intrudes  itself. 
Granted  that  God  is' real  at  least  as  an  ideal,  with  the 
infinite  power  over  us  men  that  such  an  ideal  has, 
is  He  real  in  the  further  sense  usually  demanded  by 
men  when  they  demand  a  proof  of  God?  In  other 
words,  Is  God  real  in  the  same  sense  that  you  and 
I  are  real?  For  there  is  no  question  that  I  am  real 
in  a  further  sense  than  in  being  a  mere  idea  in  some- 
body 's  mind.  Socrates  may  be  a  moral  ideal  for  his 
admirers ;  but  we  all  know  that  he  is  something  more. 
Is  God  this  something  more,  even  as  Socrates,  even 
as  you  and  I  ?  This  is  the  question  that  we  must  now 
answer  in  a  straightforward  way,  without  appeal  to 
our  mere  feelings,  and  without  such  logical  subtleties 
as  savor  of  evasion. 

175 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

It  happens  that  the  answer  to  this  question  comes 
with  all  definiteness  as  soon  as  we  make  clear  what 
the  mere  ideal  called  God  means  in  its  utter  fullness. 
That  is,  adequately  to  show  what  this  ideal  of  the 
Perfect  truly  means  is  suddenly  to  come  upon  the 
all-significant  fact  that  it  is  necessarily  more  than  a 
mere  ideal;  that  it  is  indeed  something  real,  even 
as  I  am  real.  Upon  this  adventure  let  us  cast  our 
fortunes  and  see  what  we  find. 

In  regarding  the  nature  of  the  moral  ideal  very 
carefully,  three  great  facts  about  it  will  become 
plain.  We  shall  name  these  facts  first,  and  explain 
them  afterwards.  The  first  is  that  the  ideal  of  the 
Perfect,  when  carefully  examined,  proves  to  be  not 
merely  a  goal  at  the  end  of  a  search,  but  is  a  goal 
of  such  a  nature  that  it  somehow  includes  the  search 
itself.  The  second  is  that  the  moral  ideal  somehow 
includes  also  the  great  world  of  nature  in  which  we 
live  and  which,  at  first  sight,  seems  so  indifferent 
and  even  unfavorable  to  man's  moral  purposes.  And 
the  third  fact  is  that  the  Perfection  you  and  I  in- 
dividually seek  includes  also  the  perfection  of  our 
fellows,  even  as  their  search  includes  yours  'and 
mine;  that  is,  the  moral  ideal  is  inevitably  social. 
Later,  it  will  be  seen  that  upon  proving  just  these 
things  the  proof  for  God  rests.  I  now  proceed  brief- 
ly to  give  reasons  for  them  one  by  one. 

First,  then,  the  ideal  of  the  Perfect  is  not  merely 
a  goal  at  the  end  of  a  search,  but  includes  the  search 
itself.  This  looks  like  a  logical  subtlety,  but  it  is 

176 


THE  MODEBN  AND  HIS  GOD 

harmless.  When  understood,  common  sense  will  be 
found  to  sanction  it,  as  well  as  consistent  reason. 
Nobody,  surely,  evaluates  a  human  life  by  what  it  is 
during  its  final  moment  before  death,  as  if  the  goal 
01  moral  endeavor  were  just  that  last  moment, 
thought  of  as  a  goal  for  the  sake  of  which  all  the 
rest  of  life  was  lived.  How  insignificant  that  last 
moment  is  likely  to  be,  even  in  the  lives  of  great 
men !  No,  we  evaluate  a  life  in  terms  of  the  whole 
life  as  it  was  lived  from  first  to  last.  The  goal  of 
our  life's  striving  is  to  make  our  whole  life  after 
the  pattern  of  the  ideal,  not  merely  the  last  moment 
of  it.  Thus  it  is  that  in  our  moral  struggles  we 
never  can  leave  out  our  past ;  if  it  is  wrong,  we  must 
atone  for  it  by  whatever  will  set  it  right  when  seen 
as  a  whole.  This  is,  indeed,  the  meaning  of  our 
hours  of  remorse,  our  deeds  of  repentance,  our 
conscientious  endeavors  to  undo  the  things  we  have 
done  wrongly  by  deeds  that  do  not  forget  them,  but 
that  transcend  them  and  transfigure  them.  This  is 
true  even  of  a  finite  life  that  ends  with  death.  How 
infinitely  true  of  the  immortal  life !  For  such  a  life 
there  can  be  no  last  deed,  no  goal  at  which  we  "ar- 
rive" and,  arriving,  abide.  No,  it  is  an  infinite 
search,  growing  more  and  more  towards  the  ideal 
that  forever  leads  forward,  and  that  commands  as 
part  of  its  behest  that  every  deed,  even  the  humblest, 
be  counted  in  making  up  life's  immortal  balance, 
even  mistakes  and  sins,  lifted  into  a  new  reality  by 
the  deeds  that  rectify  them  and  so  change  their 

177 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

meaning  in  the  infinite  total.  Yesterday,  to-day,  and 
to-morrow  all  belong  to  the  infinite  life  we  build  and 
seek, — not  at  all  is  that  life  a  mere  vanishing  point 
postponed  to  infinite  futures !  Life  is  dynamic,  not 
static;  so  is  the  moral  ideal.  The  Perfect  is  the  per- 
fection of  all  the  deeds  that  make  up  our  striving 
when  seen  as  a  whole,  not  the  end  and  surcease  of 
them. 

Second,  the  moral  ideal  somehow  includes  the 
great  world  of  nature  in  which  we  live.  By  this  I 
mean  that  the  natural  order  is  ultimately  to  be 
thought  of  as  a  moral  order;  an  order  that  is  con- 
sonant with  man's  own  moral  ideal, — not  a  mere 
mechanism,  utterly  indifferent  to  man's  search  for 
the  Perfect.  At  first  sight,  nothing  seems  further 
from  the  facts.  Nature  thwarts  man  at  every  turn. 
It  seems  to  be  absolutely  indifferent  to  his  moral  en- 
terprises. The  rain  falls  upon  the  just  and  the  un- 
just; indeed,  the  just  often  miss  it  when  they  most 
want  it,  and  the  unjust  get  it  without  even  praying 
for  it.  Is  it  not  a  matter  of  ancient  observation  that 
"many  are  the  afflictions  of  the  righteous,"  and  that 
' '  the  wicked  flourish  like  a  green  bay  tree ' '  ? 

But  there  is  another  fact  not  to  be  forgotten.  If 
nature  thwarts  man,  man  overcomes  nature  and 
shapes  it  to  his  uses,  so  that  it  thwarts  him  less 
and  less.  This  is  the  story  of  civilization  and  its 
inner  meaning, — the  shaping  of  nature  to  man's 
ideals ;  forests  into  cities,  stones  into  temples,  wilder- 
nesses into  highways,  colors  into  paintings,  sounds 

178 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

into  music  and  the  articulate  dreams  of  literature. 
Out  of  recalcitrant  dust,  a  sword  of  flame  to  storm 
the  heights !  Science  gives  us  her  gift,  the  laws  of 
nature;  but  they  would  be  a  worthless  gift  if  they 
were  not  such  that  we  could  use  them  in  the  service 
of  progress  toward  that  Perfect  which  we  restlessly 
and  forever  seek.  Science  would  not  be  tolerated 
for  one  moment  if  it  were  not  for  this  usefulness.  It 
cannot  exist  for  the  sake  of  mere  intellectual  curios- 
ity. Mere  intellectual  curiosity  is  an  abstraction 
that  expires  if  left  to  itself ;  for  man  is  not  only  an 
intellect,  but  a  will  and  a  desire ;  and  all  things  must 
serve  this  or  fail.  And  to  insist  that  nature  must  be 
interpreted  in  terms  of  man's  will  does  not  make 
man  the  egoistic  center  of  nature,  any  more  than  to 
insist  that  it  be  interpreted  in  terms  of  his  reason, 
as  we  do  not  hesitate  to  do,  and  as  science  is  forever 
doing.  Nature  must  be  interpreted  in  terms  of 
man's  will,  too,  or  man  will  abandon  nature, — which 
he  cannot  do  since  it  is  part  of  his  very  life.  Yes, 
part  of  his  life,  and  so  part  of  his  ideal.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  our  resolute  and  successful  attempt  to 
master  nature,  even  to  its  infinitude.  Even  to  its  in- 
finitude, for 

This  day  before  dawn  I  ascended  a  hill  and  look'd  at  the 

crowded  heaven, 
And  I  said  to  my  spirit  When  we  become  the  enf aiders  of 

those  orbs,  and  the  pleasure  and  knowledge  of  every 

thing  in  them,  shall  we  be  jttl'd  and  satisfied  thenf 
And  my  spirit  said  No,  we  but  level  that  lift  to  pass  and 

continue  beyond. 

179 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

To  interpret  nature  thus  morally  does  not  con- 
tradict or  interfere  with  or  change  a  single  scientific 
law.  Nor  does  it  mean  that  we  insist  that  science 
shall  interpret  the  world  one  whit  otherwise  than  it 
does.  For  example,  one  shall  not  insist  that  the 
biologist  as  such  should  think  that  the  survival  of 
the  fittest  means  in  the  long  run  the  survival  of  the 
morally  best ;  although  one  shall  hold  that  this  is  so. 
It  does  no  violence  whatever  to  any  scientific  law  to 
interpret  the  life  of  nature  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  moral  ideal,  the  ultimate  standpoint  that  gives 
meaning  to  everything  man  thinks  and  does,  in- 
cluding the  achievement  of  scientific  truth.  The 
scientific  laws  of  digestion  are  not  moral  in  them- 
selves; but  they  are  among  the  natural  means  for 
living  a  life  that  rationally  is  moral.  Science  deals, 
if  you  please,  with  the  structure  of  the  world-life; 
morals  with  its  function;  science  with  its  body; 
morals  with  its  soul. 

The  natural  order  must  be  ultimately  moral,  or 
moral  faith  is  in  vain  and  impossible.  For  the  very 
materials  of  man's  moral  task  are  found  in  nature; 
and  if  nature  be  not  such  as  he  can,  through  strug- 
gle, shape  to  his  uses,  his  task  is  in  vain.  But  if 
his  task  is  in  vain,  its  futility  means  a  contradiction 
to  the  very  essence  of  man,  which  resides,  as  we 
have  seen  in  the  moral  search,  which,  if  contra- 
dicted, shatters  the  world  from  the  standpoint  of  a 
complete  logical  consistency.  We  must  believe  that, 
in  the  long  run,  nature  is  for  us,  not  against  us,  or 

180 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

we  throw  away  our  ideals ;  and  we  simply  cannot  do 
thac.  So  nature  is  part  of  the  power  that  makes  for 
righteousness.  Whatever  our  abstractly  intellectual 
beliefs  about  it,  in  times  of  crises,  when  our  wills 
assert  themselves  in  their  ultimate  nakedness,  we 
make  this  inalienable  demand.  When,  at  such  times, 
nature  seems  perversely  counter  to  the  good,  our 
loyalties  still  live  on  in  the  faith  of  the  common  say- 
ing that  nature  knows  "best";  otherwise  we  perish. 
In  Light,  a  novel  by  Barbusse,  it  is  said  of  a  work- 
ingman's  wife  that  "she  doesn't  believe  in  God." 

"Ah,"  says  a  mother  standing  by,  "that's  because 
she  has  no  children." 

"Yes,  she  has  got  two." 

"Then,"  says  the  poor  woman,  "it's  because 
they've  never  been  ill." 

This  is  not  mere  sentiment.  It  is  a  profound 
philosophical  observation.  We  must  believe  that 
even  in  nature  all  things  work  together  for  good. 

The  third  fact  about  the  Perfection  that  you  and 
I  seek  is  that  it  includes  the  perfection  of  our  fellows, 
even  as  their  search  includes  yours  and  mine;  that 
is,  the  moral  ideal  is  inevitably  social.  To  prove  this 
is  merely  to  prove  that  you  and  I  are  social  by 
nature,  which  means,  psychologically,  that  I  possess 
as  a  fundamental  and  ineradicable  part  of  me  what 
Mill  called  "a  feeling  of  unity  with  my  fellow  crea- 
tures"; or,  metaphysically,  that  I  cannot  fully  define 
my  own  being  save  in  terms  of  the  being  of  others ; 
or,  morally,  that  my  ultimate  ideal  reveals  itself  as 

181 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

not  a  life  isolated  from  all,  but  a  life  that  includes 
the  good  of  everybody.  This  truth  has  often  been 
regarded  as  the  very  heart  of  morality.  It  has  even 
been  doubted  that  there  would  be  any  such  thing  as 
morality  left  for  an  absolutely  isolated  human  being. 
Our  supreme  virtues  are  social  because  our  larger 
self  is  one  that  can  leave  no  fellow  self  whatever 
outside  the  circle  of  our  ultimate  regard.  The  in- 
dividual progresses  through  society,  and  society 
through  the  individual.  The  moral  enterprise  is 
social  through  and  through,  because  we  are  inher- 
ently social  through  and  through.  Or,  if  you  please, 
your  search  and  my  search  and  the  search  of  all 
the  rest  of  us,  is  a  search  for  an  ideal  common  to 
us  all.  We  each  seek  the  same  Perfection,  each  in 
his  own  way ;  for,  surely,  there  can  be  only  one  Per- 
fect. And  if  the  goal  is  the  same  for  all,  then  not 
only  all  my  deeds,  but  yours  too,  and  those  of  every 
one  of  the  infinite  number  of  souls  that  seek  the  Ideal 
are  parts  of  the  same  great  search  that  includes  us 
every  one.  And  this  is  what  links  our  lives;  we 
each  seek  the  same,  each  in  his  own  way;  yet  for 
each  to  value  as  priceless  his  own  search  means  to 
value  as  priceless  the  search  of  all  the  rest,  of  which 
his  own  is  but  a  part, — yes,  which  his  own  must  in- 
clude to  be  complete. 

Such,  then,  are  three  fundamental  characteristics 
of  the  moral  ideal  when  it  is  made  more  explicit.  We 
come  to  this,  then :  The  Perfection  that  we  seek  is  the 
infinite  series  of  our  deeds,  including  all  of  nature 

182 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

and  the  lives  of  all  our  fellows.  But  see  at  what  we 
have  arrived!  We  suddenly  perceive  the  fact  that 
if  we  grant  what  has  been  said,  the  moral  ideal  is 
nothing  less  than  that  Life  which  is  the  Total  Uni- 
verse in  its  infinite  completeness.  Little  by  little  the 
ideal  of  Perfection  has  demanded  all  time,  all  nature, 
all  lives,  and  finally  that  infinite  completeness  which 
is  the  totality  of  things.  But  this  "  totality  of 
things"  suddenly  emerges  as  something  more  than 
that  God  which  science  gave  us  under  that  phrase. 
It  is  no  longer,  rightly  interpreted,  a  mere  aggre- 
gate of  facts,  or  even  a  mere  mechanistic  organiza- 
tion of  facts,  but  it  is  a  moral  order,  a  Life,  realiz- 
ing itself  through  infinite  deeds  through  infinite 
time.  And  behold,  this  Life  universal,  just  because 
it  is  our  ideal,  is  ourselves,  each  of  us,  carried  to 
our  utter  fulfillment.  Further,  such  a  Life  is  per- 
sonal, if  we  are  personal;  for  the  essence  of  the 
moral  personality  of  each  of  us  is  to  have  and  to 
be  just  such  a  purpose  that  realizes  itself  immortal- 
ly. We  found  God  to  exist  at  least  as  the  Ideal  of 
Perfection,  of  the  Perfect  Person;  but  this  very 
ideal,  upon  careful  analysis,  turns  out  to  be  some- 
thing more  than  a  mere  ideal ;  it  is  none  other  than 
the  totality  of  things,  whose  meaning  and  life 
we  each  seek!  But  now,  surely  this  totality  of 
things  is  real;  even  science  accepts  that.  Then, 
just  as  surely  and  triumphantly  is  God  real,  for 
He  is  this  very  Totality,  regarded  as  a  Life.  He  is 
as  real  as  I  am  real,  for  if  He,  the  universal  Life, 

183 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

is  not  real,  then  I,  who  am  real  only  in  terms  of 
exactly  that,  fall  into  nothingness.  If  I  am  real,  so 
is  He;  if  I  were  not  real,  He  could  not  be,  for  it 
is  part  of  His  reality  to  be  that  perfect  life  that  I 
immortally  seek  and  find.  Or,  if  God  is  not  real, 
my  search  is  not  real.  But  it  is.  I  accept  God  or 
abandon  my  search,  since  it  is  Him  I  seek!  And  I 
will  not  abandon  my  search,  for  this  were  my  death. 
Of  a  verity,  God  is  even  more  real  than  you  and  I, 
if  one  means  by  "you  and  I"  what  we  are  here  and 
now,  the  poor  selves  we  actually  are  at  this 
moment.  Even  common  sense  recognizes  that  the 
actual  self  you  now  are  is  not  your  whole  reality; 
it  is  not  what  you  speak  of  when  you  speak  of  your- 
self in  your  full  meaning.  Yourself  as  you  are 
actually,  as  you  are  up  to  date,  is  only  part  of  that 
larger  self  which  belongs  to  you,  the  self  that  in- 
cludes all  your  future  as  well  as  all  your  past.  In- 
deed, the  future  is  rightly  said  to  be  already  your 
future ;  it  is  a  veritable  part  of  you,  of  your  career, 
which  up  to  now  is  only  begun,  but  which  certainly 
belongs  to  you.  Yes,  that  larger  self  of  yours  is 
more  really  you  than  the  fleeting,  partial  self  that 
you  now  are;  you  will  tolerate  or  understand  your 
partial  self  at  all  only  as  you  relate  it  to  the  self 
that  you  yet  shall  be.  But  this  larger  self  that  is 
more  real  than  the  self  you  are  now  is  the  Ideal 
in  its  fullness, — it  is  God.  He  is  more  real  than 
you  are  now,  even  as  your  complete  self  is  more 
truly  you  than  the  poor  self  that  you  are  to-day, 

184 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

with  your  infinite  to-morrows  all  forgotten  and 
unclaimed.  Even  for  science,  the  real  is  more  than 
the  actual, — that  which  is  up-to-date.  Science  pre- 
dicts with  all  confidence  the  event  that  is  not  yet 
actual,  as  part  of  its  real  world.  For  science,  even 
the  events  of  the  future  are  as  inexorably  real  as 
those  of  the  past;  the  problem  is  not  to  decide  if 
such  events  are  real,  but  merely  to  discover  what 
they  are. 


Such  is  one  of  the  highways  of  reason  that  lead 
to  God.  Like  the  proof  for  immortality,  it  is  a 
proof  as  thoroughly  cogent  as  science's  proof  for 
her  own  widely  accepted  hypotheses,  which  are, 
nevertheless,  regarded  as  universal  laws;  laws 
which  it  does  not  occur  to  us  to  question,  because  to 
question  them  would  be  to  question  the  very  being 
of  science  itself.  A  hypothesis  proved  because  it  is 
necessary  to  make  life's  search  consistently  possi- 
ble is  just  as  certain  as  any  hypothesis  deemed 
proved  because  it  makes  possible  the  special  enter- 
prise of  life  called  science.  Indeed,  the  search  of 
science  is  justified  only  by  its  service  to  this  larger 
search  that  is  the  heart  of  man's  life,  the  soul  of 
his  moral  being. 

Nor  may  it  be  said  that  this  proof  for  God  is 
merely  a  moral  proof,  in  the  sense  that  it  is  not 
also  an  intellectual  proof,  such  as  are  the  proofs 

185 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

of  science.  If  men  would  only  realize  that  our  moral 
and  intellectual  interests  are  not  two  separate 
worlds !  For  if  one  is  arguing  from  facts,  then  the 
moral  ideal  is  just  as  much  an  immutable  fact  of 
man's  nature  as  any  other  fact,  such  as  a  star,  or 
a  geologic  stratum ;  and  all  other  facts  must  be  made 
rationally  consistent  with  it,  if  it  can  be  done  with 
no  shadow  of  contradiction  to  scientific  laws. 

Moreover,  the  proof  for  God  offered  here  is  not 
to  be  confused  with  certain  proofs  that  have  been 
quite  current  in  the  past,  but  have  lost  the  confi- 
dence of  the  modern  mind.  It  must  not  be  con- 
fused with  the  ancient  argument,  made  famous  by 
Anselm,  that  God  exists  because  the  very  idea  of 
God's  perfection  can  leave  nothing  out  of  God  and 
so  must  include  His  existence.  Our  argument  is 
not  merely  an  argument  from  the  nature  of  the  idea 
of  God  to  the  fact  that  He  exists,  although  it  is  at 
least  this;  but  it  is,  most  truly  seen,  an  argument 
from  the  irrefutable  facts  of  the  moral  life  to  the 
equally  irrefutable  fact  of  God.  We  face  the  facts ; 
and  the  supreme  Fact  of  all  is  the  Totality  of  all 
Facts.  And  all  the  facts,  including  the  central  facts 
of  man's  moral  nature,  demand  that  we  interpret 
this  Totality  of  all  Facts,  this  supreme  Fact,  as  a 
moral  order,  as  a  self-realizing  purpose  fulfilling  it- 
self, and,  so,  as  a  Person,  identical  with  the  moral 
ideal  that  alone  makes  the  life  of  us  men  real. 

Nor  is  this  proof  of  God  to  be  confused  with  the 
old  and  most  often  fallacious  attempts  to  prove 

186 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

God  from  nature.  This  argument  has  been  a  favor- 
ite one,  on  which  many  a  man  has  pinned  his  faith 
only  to  find  later  that  nature  itself  reveals  no  Per- 
fect Person.  Nature  just  by  itself  gives  us  no  moral 
order;  she  gives  us  a  series  of  changes,  which  in 
themselves  may  be  equally  for  better  or  worse ;  the 
truth  is,  we  must  find  a  way  to  interpret  nature  in 
terms  of  God  before  we  can  interpret  God  in  terms 
of  nature.  Remain  within  the  physical  nature  that 
science  deals  with,  and  no  shred  of  evidence  for  God 
is  found.  Science  is  right  here.  Lucretius,  admit- 
ting only  a  universe  of  matter, 

dropped  his  plummet  down  the  broad 
Deep  universe,  and  said,  "No  God!" 

And  within  his  presuppositions,  he  was  right. 
Nature  is  bad  or  good  according  to  one's  viewpoint; 
it  is  the  viewpoint  itself  that  must  be  proved.  Where 
in  all  nature  does  one  find  perfect  rationality,  or 
perfect  goodness?  One  reads  these  things  into 
nature,  not  out  of  nature.  One  comes  to  nature  with 
these  faiths  in  his  heart.  "What  a  man  sees  of 
God  in  nature  is  the  indirect  reflection  of  Him 
through  the  man.  But  when  nature  is  once  seen 
thus,  nature  is  most  eloquent.  If  Lucretius  had 
only  dropped  his  plummet  into  the  human  soul! 
Man  is  a  fact;  in  the  study  of  this  fact  the  moral 
order  and  God  are  logically  found.  It  is  an  op- 
probrious accusation  that  man  created  God  in  his 
own  image ;  yet,  in  a  sense,  man  is  the  logical  creator 

187 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

of  God  in  so  far  as  God  is  logically  implied  in 
man's  own  being;  if  man  ceased  God  would  not  be. 
This  is  what  Socrates  meant  when  he  said  before 
his  accusers,  "I  do  believe  that  there  are  gods,  and 
in  a  far  higher  sense  than  any  of  my  accusers  do. ' ' 
For  they  relied  upon  the  traditionally  external 
proofs ;  but  Socrates '  proof  was  found  in  the  man- 
date of  the  Delphic  oracle,  "Know  Thyself."  It  is 
in  this  central  fact,  in  terms  of  whose  reason  and 
will  nature  must  ever  be  ultimately  interpreted,  that 
God  is  found.  Within  first;  without  afterwards. 

Closer  is  He  than  breathing,  and  nearer  than  hands  and 
feet. 

So  close  that  Emerson,  knowing  that  we  are  part 
of  that  moral  order  which  is  His  life,  could  well 
challenge  the  logician  thus : 

Draw,  if  thou  canst,  the  mystic  line 
Severing  rightly  his  from  thine, 
Which  is  human,  which  divine. 

It  is  one  of  the  traditional  sayings  of  the  Nazarene 
that  "if  thou  hast  seen  thy  brother,  thou  hast  seen 
thy  God."  Even  in  the  common  man,  the  infinite 
moral  order  is  revealed.  Those  who  see  beneath  his 
mere  appearance,  those  whom  we  call  the  seers, 
have  ever  known  this.  How  the  poets  glorify  the 
common  man!  To  write  his  drama  at  all  truly  is 
ever  to  make  him  a  member  of  that  moral  order 
whose  infinite  urge  is  the  source  of  all  tragedy. 

188 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

For  the  spirit  of  tragedy  is  the  theme  of  moral 
doom,  the  annihilation  of  ideals;  but  while,  on  the 
stage,  the  tragedy  is  final,  in  life  as  men  live  it  the 
tragic  doom  is  ever  transcended;  it  is  only  an 
episode ;  there  are  infinite  acts  to  come.  As  a  great 
dramatic  poet,  Browning,  puts  it: 

Man  is  hurled 

From  change  to  change  unceasingly, 
His  soul's  wings  never  furled. 


VI 

Unless  the  conception  of  God  that  has  now  re- 
vealed itself  as  the  end  of  our  quest  is  also  the  God 
that  our  Occidental  consciousness  really  seeks;  un- 
less this  conception  satisfies  its  intelligence  and  its 
moral  criticism,  our  proof  of  God  is  not  of  much 
practical  value.  But  I  now  maintain  that  the  con- 
ception at  which  we  have  arrived  includes  all  the 
essential  demands  of  religions  modernly  prevalent. 
For  instance,  the  Christian  consciousness,  too,  in- 
sists that  God  is  to  be  identified  with  the  supreme 
moral  ideal;  concerning  whom,  therefore,  the  chief 
moral  imperative  is,  "Be  ye  therefore  perfect,  even 
as  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect."  That 
He  is  an  ideal  in  my  own  image  as  I  am  in  His 
image,  is  a  thought  that  thrills  the  rhapsody  of  St. 
John  when  he  exclaims,  beholding  the  nature  and 
goal  of  the  struggle  toward  the  completed  Life, 

189 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

"Beloved,  now  are  we  all  the  sons  of  God,  and  it 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be ;  but  we  know 
that  when  He  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  Him, 
for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  With  Christianity, 
we  have  found  that  the  superlative  law  of  God  is 
the  law  of  love,  not  of  force,  since  He  rules  all  by 
being  the  Ideal  of  all,  which,  lifted  up,  shall  ' '  draw 
all  men  unto  Him,"  through  the  love  they  bear  to- 
ward that  Perfect  which  is  their  ultimate  desire. 
Christianity  joins  too  with  our  moral  reason  in  in- 
sisting that  the  divine  life  shall  include  nature; 
that  not  a  sparrow's  fall  but  is  included  in  His 
meanings ;  that  the  natural  body  is  the  very  ' '  temple 
of  the  holy  spirit,"  not  to  be  abnegated,  but  trans- 
figured; that  the  moral  law  is  so  regnant  over 
natural  law  with  its  apparent  indifferences  that,  at 
the  last,  "all  things  work  together  for  good"  for 
those  who  interpret  all  things  through  the  Ideal, — 
love  for  which  is  their  supreme  loyalty.  Christian- 
ity, too,  is  certain  that  the  moral  goal  is  social;  it 
is  a  "kingdom"  that  includes  all  our  fellows,  the 
veritable  "Kingdom  of  God."  And,  finally,  if  the 
Christian  conception  is  of  a  personal  God,  symbol- 
ized most  intimately  by  the  term  of  Father,  so  also 
the  conception  to  which  we  have  come  is  personal, 
as  has  been  abundantly  shown.  Even  reason  as 
well  as  feeling  has  led  us  to  the  great  Comrade, 
away  from  that  infinite  loneliness  that  smites  us  if 
God  is  a  mere  ideal,  a  mere  shadow  or  projection  of 
the  self.  A  lofty  selfishness  were  that,  it  is  true; 

190 


THE  MODERN  AND  HIS  GOD 

but  it  satisfies  at  the  last  neither  reason,  nor  the 
unselfish  love  that  demands  that  the  object  of  its 
affection  shall  not  be  a  vision  only,  but  a  reality, 
a  veritable  Other,  who  never  forsakes,  in  whose 
life  we  share,  and  whose  ever-present  being  gives 
us  confidence  to  transcend  all  our  defeats.  No,  this 
God  we  have  found  is  no  strange  and  alien  God.  It 
is  the  God  the  modern  world  has  found  itself  seek- 
ing in  its  most  conspicuous  moments  of  religious 
awareness,  if  haply  it  might  feel  after  Him  and 
find  Him. 


vn 

But  amid  so  much  that  takes  us  into  the  regions 
of  theory,  we  are  apt  to  forget  why  we  set  out  to 
solve  the  problem  of  God.  It  was  for  no  religious 
purpose  primarily,  and  for  no  sentimental  reason 
at  all, — not  even  for  the  sake  of  satisfying  our  in- 
tellectual curiosity,  however  pardonable.  It  was 
for  one  reason  alone,  to  discover  if  God  is  neces- 
sary to  make  a  moral  order  possible,  and  if  so,  in 
what  sense.  It  has  sufficiently  appeared,  long  be- 
fore coming  upon  our  present  problem,  that  morals 
cannot  get  along  without  a  moral  ideal ;  that  moral 
confidence,  moreover,  means  faith  in  the  guarantee 
of  the  ultimate  triumph  of  righteousness.  It  now 
appears  that  logic  inevitably  leads  us  to  identify 
these  requisites  with  the  conception  of  God,  whose 
existence  a  critical  reason  makes  supremely  real. 

191 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

A  moral  ideal  and  the  guarantee  of  the  victory  of 
the  Good, — one  of  these  two  moral  values  we  said 
God  must  have  to  be  of  moral  worth.  He  has  them 
both.  He  is  the  ideal;  and  He  guarantees  right's 
triumph  because  His  eternal  reality  is  that  triumph, 
and  because  He  insures  it  by  His  everlasting  pres- 
ence in  human  consciousness  as  the  idea  of  the  Per- 
fect, through  which  wrong  is  forever  criticized, 
and  rebuked,  and  overcome.  Again,  in  all  this  no 
fact  or  law  of  science  has  been  impugned ;  nature  is 
not  cast  aside  or  obscured,  but  given  a  new  mean- 
ing that  increases  the  worth  of  natural  science  im- 
measurably. 

The  belief  in  God  thus  turns  out  to  be  one  of 
the  indispensable  bases  for  a  vigorous  moral  con- 
fidence, along  with  the  belief  in  immortality.  In- 
deed, truly  seen,  moral  progress,  since  it  is  progress 
toward  the  Perfect,  means  nothing  more  or  less 
than  progress  in  the  living  knowledge  of  God.  Thus, 
the  moral  life  and  the  religious  life  finally  coincide. 
It  is  the  morally  pure  in  heart  that  shall  see  God. 
It  is  indeed  true  that,  as  the  pietists  used  to  say, 
"mere  morals  will  not  save  you,"  for  mere  morals 
never  can  persist  by  themselves;  logically  carried 
out,  mere  morals  lead  to  the  very  center  of  the  re- 
ligious verity  and  to  the  soul  of  its  aspiration. 
Science  is  one  of  the  most  indispensable  parts  of 
this  moral  progress — this  progress  in  the  knowledge 
of  God — for  if  the  moral  consciousness  gives  us  the 
end  of  the  human  struggle,  science,  by  ordering  and 

192 


conquering  nature,  gives  us  the  means.  This  moral 
evaluation  of  science  instead  of  detracting  from 
its  importance  in  civilization,  immeasurably  mag- 
nifies its  task,  lifting  it  from  the  plane  of  mere 
rational  curiosity  to  that  of  an  invaluable  instru- 
ment of  human  advancement. 

I  suspect  that  long  before  this,  an  apprehension 
has  been  growing  in  the  reader's  mind.  I  can 
imagine  him  saying:  "Suppose  we  admit  the  God 
you  think  you  have  proved;  you  have  given  us  a 
God  that  is  the  supreme  fact  in  the  world ;  but  have 
you  not  attributed  to  God  such  supremacy  that 
mere  man  is  reduced  to  nought,  so  that  he  is  left 
with  no  free  will  of  his  own,  since,  at  the  last,  he 
has  been  interpreted  as  only  part  of  a  universal 
Will  that  cannot  be  gainsaid?  You  sought  a  God 
in  the  interests  of  morals;  but  in  proving  God, 
you  have  destroyed  all  morals  if  you  have,  as  it 
seems,  made  man  merely  an  inextricable  part  of 
Him,  with  no  individual  freedom,  and  so  with  no 
individual  responsibility.  Why  should  we  struggle, 
if  all  is  to  be  right  in  the  end  anyway,  since,  as 
you  say,  God's  will  cannot  but  prevail?" 

This  question  is  important.  Undoubtedly,  the  con- 
ception to  which  we  have  been  led  gives  God  a  power 
that  is  infinite.  He  is  not  only  the  goal  of  all 
things,  but  the  inclusive  reality  pervading  all 
things.  He  logically  creates  their  very  being  and 
every  minim  of  their  meaning.  We  have  lifted  God 
from  the  world  of  shadows  to  the  world  of  reality; 

193 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

but,  in  so  doing,  have  we  not  reduced  man  himself 
from  a  reality  to  a  phantom,  so  that 

We  are  no  other  than  a  moving  row 

Of  Magic  Shadow-shapes  that  come  and  go 

Round  with  this  Sun-illumin  'd  Lantern  held 
In  Midnight  by  the  Master  of  the  Show ; 

Impotent  Pieces  of  the  Game  He  plays 
Upon  this  Checker-board  of  Nights  and  Days ; 

Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  checks,  and  slays, 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays. 

If  we  have  reached  a  God  like  this,  all  our  proof 
of  Him  is  worse  than  vanity.  But  have  we  done 
this?  Unless  man  is  more  than  a  puppet  in  God's 
hands,  the  master  of  his  fate,  he  has  no  moral 
responsibility,  no  genuine  moral  struggle,  no  real 
moral  victories,  and  no  moral  faith, — save  the 
passive  faith  that  yields  its  will  and  waits,  in  the 
abject  quiescence  of  a  spirit  cowed  and  driven,  and 
ultimately  lost  in  an  Absolute  that  absorbs  him  and 
nullifies  him. 

We  must  face  this  difficulty  resolutely.  In  doing 
so,  there  will  emerge  with  still  more  clarity  what 
God  and  man  both  are  in  their  final  significance. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ABE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUE  FATES  1 

WESTERN  civilization  proclaims  freedom  for  men. 
This  freedom  is  often  considered  the  supreme  test 
of  the  valiant  worth  of  our  democratic  institutions. 
What  this  vaunted  freedom  means  to  the  average 
man  is  fairly  clear.  It  means  that  he  has  the  right 
to  live  his  own  life  as  he  pleases,  so  far  as  this  is 
compatible  with  the  like  freedom  of  his  fellows. 

But  freedom  means  more  than  this  to  most  men 
who  value  it, — vastly  more.  It  means  a  new  sense 
of  responsibility.  For,  in  proportion  as  thinking 
men  regard  themselves  free  to  do  as  they  please, 
they  are  willing  to  be  held  accountable  for  what  they 
do.  To  be  free  and  to  be  responsible  for  what  one 
does  are  one  and  the  same  thing.  So  long  as  a  man 
is  compelled  to  do  as  he  is  told,  he  can  be  neither 
praised  nor  blamed;  he  is  not  morally  answerable 
for  what  he  cannot  help.  But  as  soon  as  he  is  free 
from  such  compulsion,  he  knows  that  he  may  be 
justly  censured  or  approved  for  his  acts,  since  now 
they  truly  belong  to  him  and  to  him  alone.  Indeed, 
it  is  largely  for  the  sake  of  acquiring  the  worth  and 
glory  of  this  responsibility  that  the  modern  man 
has  sought  freedom  at  all.  He  wants  freedom  in 

195 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

order  that  he  may  become,  in  Henley's  famous 
phrase,  the  master  of  his  fate  and  the  captain  of 
his  soul. 

This,  then,  is  the  clew  to  our  insistence  upon  our 
freedom.  This  is  why  we  of  the  Occident  hold  as 
sacred  our  heritage  of  the  long  struggle  for  free- 
dom,— each  of  us  desires  to  feel  that  he  is  the  amen- 
able fashioner  of  his  own  life.  The  chief  problems 
of  modern  times  are  likely  to  be  problems  of  how 
to  secure  further  freedom  of  this  sort;  freedom  in 
all  the  arenas  of  activity  where  men  seek  lustily  to 
fulfill  themselves;  not  only  political  freedom,  of 
which  the  American  Declaration  is  the  slogan,  but 
industrial  freedom,  intellectual  freedom,  even  relig- 
ious freedom.  In  its  final  meaning,  the  World  War 
was  a  fight  for  the  freedom  that  should  give  both 
men  and  nations  a  new  sense  that  they  are  morally 
responsible. 


If  men  have  thus  struggled  for  freedom  in  order 
that  they  might  gain  a  civilization  in  which  they 
could  become  the  fashioners  of  their  own  lives,  the 
masters  of  their  own  fates,  it  follows  that  they 
must  believe  that  such  a  mastery  is  possible.  And 
it  is  certain  that  the  modern  man  is  practically  sure 
that  nothing  in  the  world,  not  even  nature  itself,  can 
finally  reduce  him  to  a  mere  plaything  of  chance  and 
fate.  Practically,  he  will  not,  he  cannot  assent  to 

196 


AEE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

any  such  monstrous  creed;  he  will  not  and  cannot 
act  otherwise  than  upon  the  assumption  that,  in 
abundant  measure,  his  own  destiny  is  in  his  own 
hands.  This  is  the  thrill  of  his  life,  the  significance 
of  his  optimism,  the  exhilaration  of  his  struggles, 
and  the  worth  of  his  victories  over  nature  and  the 
untoward  things  that  arise  to  confront  him  in  his 
own  civilization. 

The  astonishing  thing  is  that  while,  in  the  region 
of  his  best  deeds,  the  modern  man  commits  him- 
self whole-heartedly  to  this  sort  of  responsible 
freedom,  he  is  rarely  able  to  substantiate  his  valor- 
ous belief  by  adequate  reasons.  That  is,  practically, 
he  is  sure  of  his  mastery  over  fate ;  but  theoretical- 
ly he  is  quite  as  likely  to  be  what  is  popularly  called 
a  "fatalist,"  convinced  that  all  he  does  is  the  re- 
sult of  causes  over  which  he  has  no  real  power.  This 
is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  many  paradoxes 
that  belong  to  the  man  of  to-day, — still  more  inter- 
esting because  he  seems  so  very  unaware  of  it.  Sud- 
denly confront  the  cherished  freedom  of  his  will 
with  his  scientific  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  man 
and  his  world,  and  he  is  likely  to  be  "  stricken 
through  with  doubt, "  that  is,  always  theoretically. 
And,  theoretically,  he  does  not  mind  this;  because, 
oddly  enough,  the  theoretical  and  practical  lives  of 
the  contemporary  man  are  quite  sharply  sundered. 
Live  with  him  and  fight  with  him,  and  he  sublimely 
demonstrates  his  conviction  of  his  freedom;  but 
once  argue  with  him,  and  he  is  just  as  likely  to  cele- 

197 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

brate  fatalism ;  or,  more  accurately,  determinism, — 
the  doctrine  that  what  he  is  and  what  he  does  is, 
after  all,  the  necessary  product  of  heredity  and  en- 
vironment, or  of  God's  will  working  itself  out  in 
His  universe.  The  immense  vogue  of  the  Rubaiyat 
of  Omar  Khayyam  is  a  symptom  of  just  this  view- 
point. In  it  the  modern  man  is  likely  to  find  a 
fascinating  echo  of  his  more  reflective  moods.  With 
the  Persian  bard,  he  can  intellectually  assent  to  such 
inexorableness  as  is  expressed  by  the  oft  quoted 
lines, 

The  Moving  Finger  writes ;  and,  having  writ, 
Moves  on ;  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it. 

This  theoretical  conviction  that  man  ultimately 
is  determined  in  all  his  ways  by  something  bigger 
than  himself  comes  to  the  modern  mind  naturally, 
and  from  two  sources.  One  source  is  the  prevalent 
conception  of  nature;  the  other  is  the  prevalent 
conception  of  God.  As  for  nature,  science  has 
taught  men  to  think  of  themselves  as  caught  in 
nature's  vast  system  of  causes  and  effects,  which 
cannot  except  them  from  the  law  that  each  thing — 
sea,  or  star,  or  human  being — is  compelled  to  be 
just  what  it  is  by  forces  that  it  cannot  control. 
Neither  sea,  nor  star,  nor  human  being  has  any  real 
choice  in  the  matter.  And  as  for  God,  He  is  most 
commonly  thought  of  (so  far  as  He  is  thought  of  at 

198 


ABE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

all)  as  one  whose  will  is  so  supreme,  whose  purpose 
so  pervades  all  things,  that  it  becomes  eminently 
foolish  to  suppose  that  man's  puny  desires  can  defy 
it,  or  that  any  freedom  that  he  can  assert  for  him1- 
self  is  anything  but  illusory.  Not  that  men  are  in 
the  habit  of  carrying  their  reasoning  about  God 
so  far  as  this  extreme  conclusion;  but  the  infer- 
ence is  logically  inherent  in  much  of  popular  belief 
and  tends  to  become  evident  the  more  one  thinks. 
At  any  rate,  neither  the  current  ideas  of  nature  nor 
of  God,  when  reflected  upon,  seem  to  the  educated 
mind  to  leave  man  much  room  for  boasting  of  the 
freedom  of  his  will.  To  assert  it  very  forcibly  at 
this  stage  of  human  knowledge  seems  a  presump- 
tuous egotism. 

n 

And  yet  from  the  beginning  of  civilization  it  has 
seemed  to  many  great  thinkers  that  unless  man  is 
vindicated  as  really  free  from  being  wholly  de- 
termined by  nature  or  by  God,  what  we  call  the 
moral  life  loses  its  meaning.  For  unless  men  can 
really  be  held  accountable  for  what  they  do;  un- 
less their  deeds  are  in  some  measure  their  very  own, 
and  not  utterly  forced  upon  them  by  external  in- 
fluences that  they  cannot  evade,  it  seems  idle  moral- 
ly to  praise  or  to  blame  anybody  for  what  he  does. 
To  say  to  a  man  that  he  ought  to  do  one  thing  rather 
than  another  certainly  seems  to  carry  with  it  the 

199 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

assumption  that  he  is  free  to  choose  his  own  way 
and  is  responsible  for  his  choice.  A  high  moral 
valor  and  a  sense  of  responsible  freedom  go  to- 
gether. 

Of  course,  one  must  expect  to  be  asked  what  differ- 
ence it  can  possibly  make  even  if  the  man  of  to- 
day cannot  theoretically  prove  that  he  is  master  of 
his  fate,  provided  that,  as  has  been  admitted,  he 
practically  lives  as  though  he  were.  After  all,  it 
may  be  said,  it  is  not  a  man's  mere  theories,  but 
his  practical  beliefs  that  count  in  this  world.  The 
obvious  answer  is  that  this  practical  and  unreflee- 
tive  conviction  of  men  that  they  are  free  may  be 
entirely  wrong;  and,  if  so,  it  ought  speedily  to  be 
amended.  Men  surely  do  not  want  to  build  their 
lives  upon  an  error.  If  men  are  really  free,  it  ought 
to  be  provable.  And  unless  men's  practical  belief 
in  their  own  freedom  can  be  made  reasonable  in 
theory,  their  moral  faith  will  not  endure,  especially 
in  an  age  which  subjects  itself  more  and  more  to 
the  tests  of  reason. 

There  are  thinkers  who  deny  this;  who  say  that 
however  reason  might  decide  on  the  question  of 
man's  freedom,  he  would  act  exactly  the  same.  For 
instance,  we  are  told  that  we  are  under  a  grievous 
delusion  if  we  think,  as  some  do,  that  our  activities 
would  lose  their  vigor,  or  be  paralyzed,  if  we  be- 
lieved that  all  we  are  and  do  is  determined  by  forces 
outside  ourselves.  Attention  has  often  been  called 
to  the  fact  that  the  belief  of  the  Mohammedans  in 

200 


AEE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES! 

predestination  has  been  no  obstacle  to  their  being 
one  of  the  most  active  and  aggressive  peoples  in  the 
world.  The  question  is  asked,  If  you  are  desirous, 
say,  of  going  to  Paris,  how  can  the  knowledge  that 
this  desire  is  the  necessary  result  of  causes  you 
cannot  control  change  your  plans?  You  will  go  to 
Paris  if  you  can,  will  you  not,  in  spite  of  you? 
conviction  that  you  are  determined? 

Let  us  see.  Suppose  that  I  desire  to  go  to  Paris, 
and  that  I  believe  that  my  desire  is  determined  by 
forces  I  cannot  control.  And,  since  I  am  a  thorough 
' 'fatalist,"  I  also  believe  that  every  deed  I  am  to 
do  in  fulfilling  this  desire  is  already  determined  be- 
forehand by  forces  utterly  beyond  my  guidance. 
Now,  suppose  difficulties  arise.  We  will  say  that 
it  is  impossible  to  obtain  a  passport  without  great 
effort;  or  I  have  not  the  passage-money  and  will 
have  to  earn  it  at  great  sacrifice  to  myself.  If  I 
really  and  truly  believe  that  I  have  absolutely  no 
share  in  fashioning  the  events  that  shall  take  me 
to  Paris,  I  will  make  no  effort,  well  knowing  that 
if  it  is  foreordained  that  I  reach  Paris,  I  will  ar- 
rive there  somehow,  in  any  event.  Whereas,  if  I 
genuinely  believe  that  I  do  help  to  fashion  my  own 
future,  I  will  straightway  struggle  to  overcome 
whatever  obstacles  confront  me.  In  the  one  case,  I 
believe  that  it  makes  no  difference  whether  I  strug- 
gle or  not,— the  event  is  predetermined  to  happen 
one  way  or  another.  In  the  other  case,  I  know 
that  my  efforts  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world. 

201 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

Further,  if  I  believe  that  I  am  absolutely  determined 
in  all  I  do,  I  will  lose  all  sense  of  responsibility  for 
what  I  do.  And  to  lose  the  sense  of  responsibility 
is,  without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  to  lose  the  sense 
of  all  morals,  all  sense  of  legitimate  praise  or 
blame.  If  some  one  objects  that  I  may  have  a  sense 
of  moral  responsibility  and  yet  be  "fated"  to  have 
it,  I  make  this  decisive  reply,  "Perhaps;  but  I  can- 
not have  this  sense  and  at  the  same  time  believe 
that  all  I  do  is  fated. "  And  remember  that  we  are 
considering  the  effect  of  our  beliefs  upon  our  con- 
duct. This  double  belief  would  be  a  flat  contradic- 
tion. It  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  at  the  very  same 
time  and  in  the  same  sense  I  believe  that  I  am  both 
fated  and  free. 

The  truth  is,  there  is  only  one  sense  in  which  it 
can  be  said  that  a  man  will  act  just  the  same  whether 
he  believes  in  determinism  or  freedom, — namely,  in 
the  sense  that  no  matter  what  he  believes,  he  will 
tend  to  act  as  though  he  were  free.  The  determin- 
ist  says,  "I  will  do  all  I  can  to  go  to  Paris,  in 
spite  of  my  belief  that  my  acts  are  all  fated. ' '  To 
which  I  answer,  "Exactly  so, — m  spite  of  your  be- 
lief in  determinism!"  And  I  immediately  call  at- 
tention to  the  fact  that  one  cannot  continue  to  act 
long  in  spite  of  his  intimate  convictions,  if  they  are 
really  convictions.  We  cannot  thus  permanently 
sever  what  we  think  from  what  we  do.  If  the  de- 
terminist  acts  the  same  as  though  he  thought  he 
were  free,  in  spite  of  his  belief,  it  simply  means 

202 


ARE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES! 

that  he  does  not  take  his  belief  in  good  faith;  he 
ignores  it,  and  even  contradicts  it  in  that  large 
world  of  action  where  beliefs  are  put  to  the  rigid 
test.  That  is,  his  belief  that  he  is  fated  is  merely 
verbal  or  abstractly  intellectual,  not  vital  or  prac- 
tical. And  yet  this  will  never  do ;  for  the  belief  in 
fatalism  is,  in  its  very  nature,  a  belief  that  pre- 
tends to  interpret  the  world  of  a  man's  practical 
deeds ;  so,  if  it  means  anything  at  all,  it  cannot  re- 
main a  mere  thought ;  in  the  long  run,  it  will  trans- 
form all  of  a  man's  life. 

All  this  is  merely  to  say  that  most  men  who  assert 
that  they  believe  that  man  is  absolutely  fated  do  not 
really  believe  what  they  profess.  To  say  that  their 
actions  belie  their  theory  is  to  say  that  their  theory 
belies  their  real  convictions.  Yet,  while  this  is  true 
of  most  men,  I  must  confess  that  I  can  conceive  of 
men,  and  even  of  large  social  groups,  honestly  and 
vitally  persuaded  that  there  is  no  real  freedom  for 
man.  There  have  been  such  men  and  such  groups 
in  the  history  of  civilization.  But  I  add  that  in  so 
far  as  they  were  really  convinced  of  such  an  out- 
look upon  life,  it  tended  to  affect  their  lives  very 
significantly,  in  direct  proportion  to  the  strength 
of  their  conviction.  Extreme  commitment  to  the 
belief  in  fatalism  (so  far  as  this  is  seriously  pos- 
sible) has  ever  tended  to  result  in  that  quiescence  of 
life  which,  ceasing  the  futile  struggle,  says,  with 
whatever  beatific  peace  you  will,  "Serene  I  fold 
my  hands  and  wait,"  assured  that,  somehow  or 

203 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

other,  "my  own  will  come  to  me. "  Or,  as  with  some 
of  the  famous  Stoics,  when  life  becomes  too  in- 
sistent, such  a  necessitarian  doctrine  means  the 
submission  of  suicide.  Extreme  fatalism,  when 
prevalent  in  large  groups  or  races  of  men,  has  led 
to  the  notably  passive  civilizations,  such  as  some  of 
those  of  the  Orient,  where  fatalism  has  flourished 
most  conspicuously  as  a  practical  creed.  Or,  if  the 
belief  in  fatalism  be  not  so  logically  extreme,  it 
tends  to  lead  to  the  life  of  the  pleasure-seeker. 
For  the  logical  conclusion  of  a  half-hearted  belief 
in  our  helplessness  means  a  sort  of  pessimism  with 
regard  to  the  loftier  and  so  more  strenuous  of  the 
moral  quests,  and  lets  one  down  easily  into  the  life 
that  seeks  the  paths  of  least  resistance, — which 
means  the  life  of  pleasure.  Oddly  enough,  this  is 
precisely  the  moral  conclusion  of  the  fatalistic 
Rubaiyat  already  quoted.  The  poet  argues  that 
since  it  is  true  that  what ' '  the  first  morning  of  cre- 
ation wrote,"  "the  last  dawn  of  reckoning  shall 
read,"  the  secret  of  living  is  to  get  what  pleasure 
you  may;  "while  you  live,  drink! — for  once  dead, 
you  never  shall  return."  Yes,  difficult  as  it  is  to 
hold  to  the  conviction  of  determinism  in  the  world 
of  human  action,  a  man  or  a  people  may  be  enough 
persuaded  of  it  to  affect  grievously  the  vigor  of 
moral  loyalties.  Moral  passiveness  and  determin- 
ism go  together;  just  as  a  robust  faith  in  freedom 
has  belonged  to  aggressive  and  forward-looking 
peoples  ever  since  history  began,  our  own  America 

204 


AEE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

being    time's    latest    and    most    conspicuous    ex- 
ample. 

It  turns  out  that  an  abiding  moral  faith — yes,  the 
very  existence  of  a  real  moral  order — implies  in- 
dubitable conviction  that  men  are  in  some  sense 
free.  So  we  are  face  to  face  with  a  rather  grim 
alternative;  either  this  conviction  of  freedom  must 
be  amply  vindicated  through  reason  by  the  man  of 
to-day,  or  the  moral  order  as  we  understand  it 
must  be  straightway  abandoned.  Now,  it  is  surely 
sensible,  before  abandoning  our  faith  in  the  moral 
order,  to  make  an  honest  effort  to  see  if  our  free- 
dom can  in  any  sense  be  reasonably  justified.  And 
if  another  motive  is  needed  for  seriously  attacking 
the  problem,  it  is  that  upon  its  solution  depends  the 
unraveling  of  a  number  of  other  important  problems 
of  life  and  mind. 


m 

A  cynic  might  well  remark  that  the  most  promi- 
nent characteristic  of  the  historic  discussion  about 
free  will  is  its  voluminousness.  Yet  no  discussion 
about  any  problem  is  voluminous  enough  until  it 
has  been  solved.  However,  we  ought  to  make  our 
problem  as  simple  as  we  can ;  and  so  it  is  well  at  the 
very  outset  sharply  to  define  what  we  are  looking 
for.  And  I  shall  put  the  problem  in  the  form  of 
three  fairly  simple  questions:  First,  why  do  we 
want  freedom?  Second,  what  sort  of  freedom  do 

205 


THE  TRUTHS  "WE  LIVE  BY 

we  want?  Third,  is  there  any  such  freedom  to  be 
had! 

First,  then,  why  do  we  want  freedom  at  all? 
The  answer  to  this  question  is  already  apparent. 
We  want  freedom  for  the  sake  of  securing  that 
moral  responsibility  indispensable  to  a  moral  order; 
for  the  sake  of  being  able  to  consider  men  ac- 
countable for  what  they  do.  Or,  put  it  in  another 
way:  I  want  freedom  so  that  the  approval  or  dis- 
approval of  my  deeds  is  really  a  praise  or  blame  of 
myself  as  the  source  of  them.  I  want  freedom  so 
that  my  deeds  may  be  deemed  truly  mine, — not 
chiefly  caused  by  something  not  myself.  I  want 
freedom  in  the  sense  that  I  may  truly  be  said  to 
fashion  my  own  life;  freedom  to  realize  and  fulfill 
myself  in  my  own  way,  and  through  my  own  self. 

Second,  what  sort  of  freedom  do  I  need  for  this 
purpose?  In  order  to  discover  this,  one  has  to 
ask  what  sorts  of  freedom  there  are.  What  sorts 
have  men  fought  for?  Let  us  scan  them  for  a  mo- 
ment and  see  if  any  of  them  will  give  us  the  kind 
of  freedom  that  we  want. 

There  are  some  kinds  of  freedom  that  are  not 
worth  while.  For  instance,  there  are  some  who 
think  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  be  free  from 
any  kind  of  government.  But  their  number  is 
small.  They  are  sometimes  called  anarchists. 
Whatever  the  merits  of  such  a  freedom,  we  assuredly 
do  not  need  it  for  the  sort  of  responsibility  we  seek ; 
provided  always  that  we  are  free  to  share  in  the 

206 


AKE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

making  of  the  laws  by  which  we  are  governed.  This 
is  what  the  long  struggle  for  political  freedom  has 
meant ;  not  our  freedom  from  having  any  laws  at  all, 
but  our  freedom  to  help  create  them.  This  is  what 
the  freedom  of  democracy  means, — not  freedom 
from  government,  but  the  freedom  of  seZ/-govern- 
ment;  a  situation  in  which  every  man  is  not  only  a 
subject  but  a  sovereign,  to  be  held  morally  respon- 
sible for  violation  of  law  because  he  freely  shares 
in  the  making  of  it.  No,  we  do  not  need  freedom 
from  human  law. 

Perhaps  the  freedom  we  want  is  freedom  from 
the  laws  of  nature.  Sometimes  we  think  so;  espe- 
cially when  nature  frustrates  our  purposes  by 
events  that  respect  in  not  one  iota  our  personal  de- 
sires. And  yet,  when  we  look  at  the  matter  in  the 
large,  we  see  that  the  reign  of  natural  law  is  some- 
thing upon  which  we  actually  wish  to  depend.  If 
nature  acted  in  one  way  to-day  and  in  another  way 
to-morrow;  if  a  cause  produced  one  effect  this  mo- 
ment and  an  entirely  different  effect  the  next,  how 
could  we  plan  our  lives?  If  nature  were  capricious 
so  that  we  could  not  depend  upon  her  laws,  we 
could  not  freely  or  surely  accomplish  anything.  We 
would  be  the  abject  slaves  of  a  chance  that  would 
mock  our  every  effort  at  the  building  of  a  consistent 
life  or  a  rational  civilization.  To  depend  upon  na- 
ture is  to  depend  upon  her  constancy.  If  in  her 
constancy  she  is  sometimes  cruel,  we  rise  above 
such  cruelties  by  learning  her  secrets  and  using  them 

207 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

as  servants  of  our  rational  desires.  Thus,  instead 
of  wishing  that  there  were  no  law  of  gravitation,  I 
use  that  very  law  in  the  commonest  tasks  of  my 
everyday  life.  I  would  surely  not  be  free  if  it  acted 
one  way  on  Sundays  and  another  way  on  Mondays, 
at  the  caprice  of  anybody  who  wanted  to  change 
it. 

But  if  we  do  not  want  to  be  absolutely  and  en- 
tirely free  from  the  dependable  laws  of  nature,  it 
is  sometimes  said  that  our  freedom  demands  that 
we  human  beings  shall  be  considered  the  one  excep- 
tion to  the  otherwise  universal  reign  of  natural 
law.  Let  all  nature  but  man  be  ruled  by  such  in- 
exorable uniformities  as  nature  legislates, — stars, 
suns,  chemical  reactions,  harvests;  but  let  man  be 
the  conspicuous  exception,  so  that  if  stars  cannot  do 
as  they  please,  man  at  least  has  some  leeway,  some 
initiative  of  his  own,  some  freedom  that  does  not 
belong  to  the  rest  of  nature.  But  how  can  this  bet 
In  the  first  place,  since  men  have  physical  bodies, 
they  are  members  of  exactly  that  same  nature  to 
which  suns  and  stars  belong.  So  they  do  not  know 
what  they  ask  when  they  ask  to  be  made  excep- 
tions to  the  reign  of  such  natural  law  as  there  is. 
If  man  were  such  a  capricious  exception,  he  could 
no  longer  depend  upon  the  changeless  laws  of  his 
body's  health  and  disease,  of  sanitation,  of  eugenics  ; 
these  are  natural  laws  that  reach  into  him  from 
the  outer  physical  world  and  govern  him;  in  the 
knowledge  of  these  laws  he  plans  his  life.  After  all, 

208 


ABE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES! 

human  progress  depends  not  upon  annihilating  these 
immutable  laws,  but  upon  discovering  them  and  re- 
lying upon  them!  What  a  sorry  victim  of  chance 
that  man  would  be  who  found  that  he  could  establish 
no  dependable  bodily  habits  whose  results  he  could 
know,  because  the  human  body  insisted  upon 
being  an  exception  to  every  one  of  nature's 
laws!  In  eating,  for  instance, what  would  be  good 
for  him  to-day  might  be  poison  for  him  to- 
morrow. 

And  wholly  apart  from  the  desirability  that  man 
alone  should  be  a  capricious  exception  to  natural 
law,  it  is  clearly  necessary  that  if  he  deems  certain 
uniform  laws  to  belong  to  the  world  of  natural  bod- 
ies in  their  very  nature  (as  science  does),  he  can- 
not consistently  make  a  glaring  exception  of  him- 
self just  because  he  is  a  human  body.  And  as  for 
the  human  mind,  even  the  scientific  investigation  of 
so  subtle  a  thing  as  it  is  reveals  that  it, 'too,  is 
ruled  by  certain  rigid  laws  and  that  these  laws  can 
be  determined.  Under  the  same  circumstances,  the 
same  ideas  and  feelings,  yes,  volitions  occur.  If 
this  were  not  so,  experimental  psychology  would 
not  be  the  science  that  it  is.  No,  it  is  neither  de- 
sirable nor  possible  that  man  should  be  the  one 
thing  in  the  world  beyond  the  reign  of  those  laws 
that  pervade  all  things.  To  do  away  with  a  natural 
law  in  the  isolated  case  of  man  would  be  to  do  away 
with  it  entirely;  for  man  simply  cannot  separate 
himself  from  nature  in  this  absurd  way.  So  runs 

209 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

the  argument.  If  we  find  any  reason  for  amending 
it  later,  it  must  be  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of 
science. 

IV 

So  far,  we  have  found  two  sorts  of  freedom  that 
we  do  not  want  and  that,  furthermore,  science  would 
not  let  us  have,  even  if  we  did  want  them.  "We  can 
neither  want  nor  obtain  a  sort  of  nature  where  there 
is  no  law;  and  we  can  neither  want  nor  obtain  the 
kind  of  freedom  that  makes  man  so  cut  off  from 
nature  that  he  is  an  entire  exception  to  its  laws. 
For,  whatever  else  man  is,  he  is  also  a  member  of 
the  natural  order,  the  same  as  mountains  and  trees 
and  stars. 

But  there  is  still  a  chance  for  us.  Of  all  the  no- 
tions of  human  freedom,  the  most  popular  is  that 
of  freedom  of  choice.  This  is  probably  what  is  really 
in  the  minds  of  most  of  those  who  claim  that  man 
is  an  exception  to  nature's  rigid  laws.  Freedom 
of  choice  at  least,  it  is  alleged,  we  have;  and  it  is 
also  asserted  that  it  does  not  do  away  with  the  pos- 
sibility of  natural  law;  so  that  here  we  have  a  free- 
dom that  pretends  to  be  in  keeping  with  science. 
Whatever  deed  a  man  does,  he  must  do  it  in  ac- 
cordance with  nature's  laws;  but  he  has  the  free- 
dom to  decide  whether  or  not  he  will  do  the  deed  at 
all.  Granted  that  one  cannot  do  absolutely  as  one 
pleases  in  the  world  of  nature,  it  is  contended  that 

210 


ABE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES  t 

one  has  at  least  enough  freedom  to  choose  between 
alternatives,  so  that  he  can  always  say  of  any  course 
of  action  he  has  chosen,  "I  might  have  done  other- 
wise." If  I  choose  to  go  to  Paris,  I  must  obey  the 
laws  of  nature,  such  as  those  of  motion,  of  gravi- 
tation, and  the  rest;  but  I  have  the  freedom  to  de- 
cide whether  I  actually  shall  go  to  Paris. 

Since  this  idea  of  freedom  is  the  most  prevalent 
of  all;  and  since  most  people  think  that  at  least 
this  much  freedom  is  absolutely  necessary  in  order 
to  hold  men  morally  accountable  for  their  deeds,  let 
us  examine  it  very  closely  and  see  what  we  mean 
by  it,  whether  we  really  need  it,  and  whether  science 
will  let  us  have  it. 

It  is  always  hazardous  to  define  what  people  mean 
by  an  idea  that  they  rarely  stop  to  consider  serious- 
ly, and  never  analyze  adequately,  but  merely  take 
for  granted  in  its  vagueness.  Yet  we  must  attempt 
now  to  make  as  clear  as  possible  what  men  usually 
mean  when  they  claim  to  possess  freedom  of  choice, 
or  we  shall  make  no  progress  in  showing  its  value 
and  its  truth.  In  analyzing  what  people  really  in- 
tend by  this  notion,  one  must  not  only  have  in  mind 
the  common  everyday  utterances  of  everyday  men, 
but  also  the  literature — the  dramas,  novels,  poems — 
that  seem  to  express  worthily  the  common  con- 
sciousness and  the  common  life. 

Looking  at  the  popular  notion  of  freedom  of 
choice  from  this  broad  point  of  view,  it  seems  to 
mean,  first  of  all,  that  at  least  sometimes,  and  when- 

211 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

ever  I  am  to  be  held  morally  accountable,  there  is 
actually  more  than  one  possibility  of  action  open  to 
me ;  and  that  I  myself  can  determine  which  of  these 
courses  of  action  I  shall  adopt,  irrespective  of  pre- 
vious events  in  the  outer  world,  or  of  my  own  pre- 
vious character  and  circumstances.  No  matter  what 
my  heredity  and  environment,  no  matter  whether  I 
have  previously  lived  the  life  of  a  saint  or  a  sin- 
ner, there  are  times  when  I  find  myself  confronted 
with  alternatives  of  conduct,  where  nothing  remains 
but  my  own  free  edict  to  determine  what  I  shall  do. 

What  this  general  statement  of  the  case  deeply 
implies  is  for  us  to  find  out.  To  the  common  con- 
sciousness it  does  not  mean  that  I  can  always 
choose  to  act  as  I  act.  To  hold  this  would  be  absurd. 
For  there  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  all  of  us  are 
frequently  compelled  to  do  things  that  we  do  not 
in  the  least  choose  to  do.  At  such  times,  too,  we 
deny  that  we  are  to  be  rightly  held  morally  re- 
sponsible ;  if  blamed  for  what  we  have  done,  we  dis- 
claim the  deed  as  really  our  own ;  it  was  done  to  us, 
not  by  us. 

Yet,  it  is  very  important  to  note  that  even  in 
such  cases  I  am  frequently  held  to  have  a  residuum 
of  moral  responsibility,  in  that  while  I  could  not  do 
as  I  would  choose,  still  I  could  think  as  I  chose,  even 
if  I  could  not  carry  my  thought  into  outer  action. 
Thus,  I  often  defend  myself  when  I  have  done  some- 
thing for  which  people  blame  me,  but  which  I  could 
not  help,  by  saying,  "I  disapprove  of  what  I  was 

212 


ARE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

compelled  to  do  as  much  as  you  disapprove  of  it; 
but  I  could  not  do  what  I  chose;  it  simply  hap- 
pened that  circumstances  thwarted  me."  And  when 
our  accusers  believe  that  this  is  so,  they  exonerate 
us.  But  this  exoneration  in  such  cases  is  always 
based  upon  the  belief  that  although  I  cannot  do  as 
as  I  choose,  I  still  can  freely  choose  what  I  would 
like  to  do,  anyway;  that  is,  I  am  still  free  to  choose 
my  purposes,  my  intentions,  what  I  would  do  if  I 
could,  even  when  I  cannot  make  my  choice  out- 
wardly effective. 

This  leads  us  to  the  consideration  that  all  our 
choice  between  deeds  really  reaches  back  to  a  choice 
between  our  thoughts  about  deeds.  That  is,  first  of 
all  we  have  in  our  minds  two  or  more  ideas  of  what 
might  be  done  in  a  given  situation;  we  then  choose 
which  idea  is  the  one  we  wish  to  adopt.  Once  we 
commit  ourselves  to  one  idea  of  action  rather  than 
another,  the  choice  is  made  and  inevitably  works 
itself  out  into  external  deed  so  far  as  it  can.  As 
the  psychologist  likes  to  put  it,  all  voluntary  action 
is  "ideomotor."  But  whether  the  external  deed  is 
permitted  by  circumstances  or  not,  our  real  moral 
responsibility,  our  real  freedom  of  choice,  has  to  do 
with  what  we  choose  to  think  or  genuinely  intend. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  road  to  hell  is  paved  with 
good  intentions ;  it  would  be  better  to  say  that  the 
road  to  hell  is  paved  with  sham  intentions.  The 
road  to  heaven  is  paved  with  good  intentions,  if 
they  are  the  genuine  and  whole-hearted  choices  that 

213 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

lead,  as  such  choices  always  do,  to  the  utmost  effort 
for  their  realization. 

Freedom  of  choice,  then,  is,  in  the  last  resort,  the 
freedom  to  choose  our  thoughts.  Not  that  we  can 
choose  to  think  any  thought ;  but  of  several  thoughts 
before  the  attention,  we  can  often  choose  the  better 
or  best  thought  or  plan  of  action.  Which  means, 
too,  that  we  can  also  choose  the  worse  idea  or  plan 
of  action.  The  freedom  to  think  and  do  right  in- 
volves the  freedom  to  think  and  do  wrong.  Or, 
if  at  any  moment  I  cannot  freely  choose  which  of 
several  plans  of  action  I  shall  adopt,  it  is  held  to  be 
my  own  fault  because  of  previous  bad  choices,  for 
which  I  am  responsible.  Dickens  calls  upon  us  to 
''think  for  a  moment  of  the  long  chain  of  iron  or 
gold,  of  thorns  or  flowers,  that  would  never  have 
bound  you,  but  for  the  formation  of  the  first  link 
on  one  memorable  day."  But,  in  the  long  run,  at 
least,  the  popular  consciousness  feels  that  we  have 
some  control  over  our  purposes ;  and  even  if  at  any 
given  time  we  have  made  it  difficult  freely  to  choose 
between  alternative  purposes,  this  may  be  rectified 
at  length  if  we  will  but  use  the  free  effort  which  ia 
still  ours  and  is  forever  ours. 

This,  then,  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  freedom 
of  choice  according  to  the  popular  consciousness. 
It  means  that  we  sometimes  have  the  freedom  to 
choose  among  ideas  of  alternative  deeds  before  the 
attention.  It  further  means  that  such  choices  often 
can  be  realized  and  made  effective  in  our  outward 

214 


ABE  ,WE  MASTERS  OP  OUR  FATES! 

acts,  so  that  of  many  of  our  deeds  we  can  truly  say 
that  we  freely  chose  them,  that  "we  might  have 
done  otherwise." 

Granted  that  this  is  the  general  meaning  of  the 
popular  notion  of  freedom  of  choice,  the  next 
question  is  why  the  need  of  it  is  considered  so  im- 
perative. Faith  in  our  freedom  to  choose  has  always 
been  one  of  the  impregnable  citadels  of  prac- 
tical belief.  Most  religions,  in  spite  of  their  all- 
powerful  gods,  have  taught  it  from  the  time  when 
the  Hebrew  prophet  adjured  his  people,  "Choose 
ye  this  day  whom  ye  will  serve!"  to  present  day 
religion,  with  its  august  alternatives  which  man 
may  still  freely  choose  and  even  deity  may  not  vio- 
late. In  spite  of  the  ever-increasing  attempts  of 
philosophers  and  scientists  to  reduce  the  universe  to 
rigid  order,  where  no  "chance"  shall  anywhere  in- 
trude, and  where  free  choice  shall  be  a  contradiction, 
the  popular  belief  in  freedom  of  choice  remains  as 
lusty  as  before.  Practically,  men  have  no  doubt 
about  it,  as  has  been  abundantly  emphasized.  The 
major  portion  of  the  world's  dramas,  novels,  and 
poems,  in  spite  of  the  tragic  doom  of  a  Euripides, 
or  the  pessimistic  determinism  of  a  Hardy,  cele- 
brate man's  mastery  over  fate  within  the  limits 
of  his  genuine  choices,  through  which,  by  his  own 
deed,  he  reaps  his  triumphs  and  defeats. 

The  reason  why  men  cannot  relinquish  their  prac- 
tical belief  in  freedom  of  choice  is  the  same  reason 
already  given  for  wanting  any  freedom,  Men  want 

215 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

freedom  of  choice  because  without  it  they  cannot 
conceive  how  they  are  to  be  considered  morally  ac- 
countable for  their  deeds,  masters  of  their  own  fates, 
creators  of  their  own  lives,  members  of  a  genuine 
moral  order.  It  seems  to  be  the  least  freedom  that 
will  make  a  moral  order  possible.  Take  this  free- 
dom away,  and  there  is  no  freedom  left  except  a 
name,  no  matter  what  subtleties  it  is  made  to  cover 
for  our  intellectual  deception.  To  have  "no  choice 
in  the  matter"  is  to  be  absolved  from  any  responsi- 
bility in  the  matter.  To  have  no  chance  in  life  is 
to  have  the  portals  of  free  choice  shut  in  one's 
face.  To  have  power  is  to  have  the  power  to  choose. 
It  is  the  meaning  of  the  possibility  of  human  pro- 
gress. True,  some  argue  that  the  moral  order  can 
progress  only  on  the  assumption  that  we  can  de- 
termine human  wills  for  the  sake  of  social  welfare 
and  service ;  that  if  men  are  really  free,  education, 
laws,  arguments,  entreaties,  moral  suasion,  punish- 
ment— all  means  we  use  to  determine  conduct — are 
in  vain.  But  the  fact  is  that  we  never  act  on  the 
conviction  that  we  can  literally  determine  the  will 
of  any  one  by  arguments,  entreaties,  moral  suasion, 
or  by  any  other  means.  It  is  said  of  woman  that 
1 1  convinced  against  her  will,  she 's  of  the  same  opin- 
ion still";  wherein  is  involved  a  deep  philosophy 
applicable  not  only  to  women,  but  to  all  wills.  The 
most  we  are  conscious  of  being  able  to  do  is  to  help 
to  make  circumstances  favorable  for  a  choice  one 
way  or  another.  The  writer's  consciousness,  at 

216 


ARE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

least,  falls  far  short  of  aiming  ultimately  to  de- 
termine the  will  of  another,  and  he  does  not  con- 
ceive that  education  aims  to  do  anything  of  the 
sort.  The  entire  trend  of  modern  conceptions  of 
education  signifies,  rather,  the  reverse  of  such  an 
idea  of  compulsion.  As  for  the  notion  that  punish- 
ment is  a  powerful  determining  cause,  and  that 
punishment  can  have  a  meaning  only  in  a  deter- 
minate scheme  of  things  that  assumes  that  society 
can  determine  a  man  to  act  for  the  social  good, 
again  I  am  not  sure  that  society  does  aim  directly 
to  determine  the  criminal's  will,  or  even  desires  to 
do  such  a  far-reaching  thing,  even  in  the  reformatory 
purposes  of  punishment.  And  I  might  add  that  the 
socially  protective  aspect  of  punishment  visited  on 
the  criminal,  especially  in  the  form  of  imprisonment, 
rather  suggests  the  failure  of  society  to  determine 
men,  save  in  the  superficial  sense  of  physical  con- 
straint. For  the  criminal  as  well  as  for  the  martyr, 
"stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make,  nor  iron  bars 
a  cage."  No  thumbscrew,  no  discipline,  no  lock 
and  key  can  determine  the  murderer's  heart  not  to 
hate ;  at  the  best,  we  can  only  make  conditions  favor- 
able for  him  to  love. 

Men  are  raised  above  mere  things  by  the  fact  that 
they  continually  confront  that  most  proud  and  awful 
of  all  imperatives,  ''Choose!"  The  zest  of  living, 
yes,  life  itself  and  the  keen  sense  of  life  is  the  sense 
of  creative  choice,  which  is  the  sense  of  morals, — 
yes,  the  moral  sense  itself !  We  can  leave  the  justi- 

217 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

fication  of  this  pervasive  conviction  of  men  until 
later;  but  the  conviction  itself  is  ancient,  universal, 
and  genuine. 


But  the  decisive  question  still  remains.  Granted 
the  desirability  of  freedom  of  choice,  will  our  scien- 
tific knowledge  permit  us  to  have  it  without  contra- 
diction! Leaving  alone  for  the  time  being  the  ques- 
tion of  our  power  to  choose  our  thoughts,  what  has 
science  to  say  to  the  supposition  that  we  can  freely 
choose  our  outward  deeds?  Such  deeds,  whether 
freely  chosen  or  not,  belong  to  the  physical  world 
of  science,  whose  verdict,  therefore,  we  cannot  ig- 
nore. 

Now  the  common  answer  of  science  to  the  suppo- 
sition of  freedom  of  choice  is  very  clear  indeed. 
The  arguments  that  it  advances  against  thinking 
of  man  as  an  exception  to  nature 's  laws — arguments 
we  have  already  reviewed — are  considered  equally 
cogent  against  freedom  of  choice,  which  is  re- 
garded as  nothing  but  a  particular  way  of  think- 
ing of  man  as  just  such  an  anomalous  and  impos- 
sible exception.  Nature's  continents  and  oceans, 
her  winters  and  summers  can  never  choose  what 
they  would  be,  and  can  never  say,  "I  might  have 
done  otherwise."  Neither  can  nature's  men.  Once 
more,  it  seems  difficult  for  any  one  who  has  be- 
come familiar  with  modern  scientific  method  and 

218 


ABE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES! 

discovery  to  avoid  being  a  determinist,  or,  as  we 
popularly  call  it,  a  fatalist.  Yes,  the  issue  seems 
clearly  enough  defined;  accept  science,  you  are  a 
determinist ;  reject  it,  and  you  may  be  a  libertarian 
if  you  like,  but  no  sane  modern  mind  will  pay  any 
attention  to  your  prattlings.  Surely,  science  in  any 
real  sense  is  made  possible  only  by  the  supposi- 
tion that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  uncaused  event 
anywhere.  There  seems  to  be  no  reason  for  mak- 
ing an  exception  of  the  acts  of  human  wills.  For 
science  can  tolerate  absolutely  no  exceptions.  Where 
science  is  not  able  to  find  the  causes  of  some  event, 
it  must,  perforce,  imagine  them  present,  even  if 
their  actual  discovery  happens  to  be  impossible. 
Especially  when  we  come  to  consider  modern 
science 's  most  fruitful  generalization,  the  theory  of 
evolution,  we  must  see  that  all  supposed  free  choices 
are  in  reality  the  inevitable  and  necessary  results  of 
heredity  and  environment.  All  is  determined;  our 
parentage,  and  hence  our  inheritance, — these  at  least 
are  no  matters  for  choice.  Nor  are  our  time  and 
place  of  birth;  the  peculiarities  of  the  family  and 
people  among  whom  we  find  ourselves;  their  lan- 
guage, their  customs,  their  church,  their  politics, 
their  society  and  their  place  in  that  society.  Our 
education  reflects  the  general  culture  and  ideals  of 
our  particular  times.  Through  all  the  seven  ages, 
from  the  infant  in  the  nurse's  arms  to  the  "last 
scene  of  all  that  ends  this  strange,  eventful  history" 
in  "second  childishness  and  mere  oblivion,"  there  is 

219 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

no  place  where  free  choice  could  make  its  entrance 
on  life's  stage.  Man's  birth  is  a  necessary  product, 
as  is  his  whole  career;  and  to  both,  as  to  death,  his 
only  liberty  is  to  submit.  He  is  a  part  and  only  a 
part  of  the  total  life  of  humanity  and,  finally,  of 
universal  nature.  It  does  not  seem  that  one  need 
go  into  the  minor  complexities  of  the  problem.  The 
general  position  of  science  is  sufficiently  clear;  and 
man  seems  to  have  no  choice  but  to  admit  that,  so 
far  as  human  knowledge  has  gone,  its  position  is 
impregnable. 

If  one  raises  the  objection  that,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  science  does  not  actually  succeed  in  reducing 
everything  in  the  world  to  uniform  laws,  the  diffi- 
culty seems  easy  of  solution.  There  is  a  passage  in 
Froude  where,  raising  this  difficulty  against  mak- 
ing history  a  science,  he  denies  the  possibility  of 
scientifically  predicting  even  such  large  world-move- 
ments as  Mohammedanism,  or  Buddhism,  or  Chris- 
tianity. It  seems  at  first  sight  that  if  human  actions 
are  causally  determined  in  the  way  science  claims, 
it  would  be  possible  to  predict  them.  In  short,  the 
unpredictability  of  human  deeds  suggests  that  they 
are  in  some  sense  or  other  free  of  the  inevitable 
causal  sequence. 

The  clear  answer  to  this  is  that  we  forget  that 
predictability  of  events  is  possible  only  in  the  later 
stages  of  any  science,  and  is  the  sign  and  test  of 
its  comparatively  complete  cataloguing  of  causes  and 
effects.  Witness  astronomy,  whose  predictions  are 

220 


ABE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

now  quite  certain  because  it  is  an  old  science,  whose 
major  phenomena  are  comparatively  simple.  Yet, 
in  the  infancy  of  his  science,  the  astronomer  often 
predicted  what  never  befell;  but  one  does  not  say 
that  it  was  because  astronomical  facts  were  not 
even  then  subject  to  causal  law,  but  simply  because 
the  astronomer  was  yet  ignorant  with  regard  to 
both  facts  and  laws.  So,  one  ought  to  say  that  the 
inability  to  foretell  so  complex  a  thing  as  what  hu- 
man beings  will  do  at  a  given  time  is  due  to  our 
ignorance  of  the  workings  of  law,  not  to  its  absence. 
The  fact  is  that  we  do  foretell  in  the  main  what 
men  will  do  in  very  many  circumstances,  or  human 
society  would  be  impossible.  There  would  be  no 
business,  no  credit,  no  social  institutions  unless  we 
could  depend  upon  our  faith  in  what  men  will  do, 
knowing  what  sort  of  men  they  are. 

Such  is  the  common  argument  of  science  against 
the  possibility  that  man  can  choose  his  deeds  so  that 
he  can  truly  say,  "I  might  have  done  otherwise." 
And  sober  modern  thought  has  tended  to  consider 
science's  argument  as  conclusive  or,  in  any  event, 
baffling.  So  that  most  men  that  are  scientifically 
trained  find  it  difficult  or  impossible  to  find  intel- 
lectual defense  for  freedom  of  choice,  whatever  their 
practical  faith  in  its  desirability  and  necessity. 

But  I  believe  that  the  modern  mind  need  not  and 
should  not  relinquish  its  ancient  faith  so  readily.  At 
any  rate,  in  a  matter  that  so  vitally  affects  all  our 
outlook  upon  life  and  reaches  to  the  very  foundations 

221 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

of  the  moral  order,  we  ought  to  make  an  effort  to 
sift  science's  argument  very  critically,  with  the  same 
rigid  logic  that  science  itself  endeavors  to  employ. 
And,  applying  such  a  rigid  logic  to  the  reasonings 
of  natural  science,  I  am  convinced  that  it  can  be 
shown  that  science  is  in  no  position  to  disprove  the 
immemorial  freedom  that  common  sense  and  the 
moral  sense  have  ever  insisted  upon. 

Science's  one  and  only  argument  against  freedom 
of  choice  is  that  human  choices  cannot  be  free  from 
external  causal  law  without  introducing  an  incal- 
culable and  disturbing  element  into  the  physical 
world.  But  here  arise  two  important  questions  that 
have  too  often  been  neglected;  namely,  Is  it  not 
conceivable  that  there  are  incalculable  elements  in 
the  physical  world?  and,  after  all,  Is  it  true  that 
science  would  be  destroyed  if  there  were  ?  There  is 
a  widespread  belief  that  this  is  so ;  but  startling  as 
it  may  at  first  appear,  critical  reflection  fails  to 
vindicate  this  belief. 

For  why  is  it  not  possible  to  have  uniformities  in 
a  world  that  is  not  wholly  uniform?  Is  it  necessary 
to  hold  that  unless  all  is  ruled  by  mechanistic  law, 
nothing  is?  This  has  been  the  position  of  many 
scientists.  But  is  it  not  perfectly  conceivable  that 
one  may  have  a  pattern  that  is  fixed  once  for  all  in 
many  respects,  and  yet  which  has  variable  elements 
within  it?  Such  is  an  architect's  plan  that  makes 
certain  fundamental  prescriptions,  and  then  allows 
many  free  alternatives  within  these  prescriptions, 

222 


AEE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

all  equally  harmonious  with  the  immutable  aspects 
of  the  plan ;  such  is  an  art  gallery,  with  the  paintings 
capable  of  being  continually  and  harmoniously 
changed ;  such  is  a  song  that  ever  keeps  its  melody, 
but  has  many  possible  variations  within  it.  The 
world  is  full  of  such  fixed  patterns  with  variable  and 
alternative  elements ;  and  the  world  itself  may  well 
be  just  such  a  pattern,  where  there  is  much  funda- 
mental necessity,  much  uniformity,  and  also,  within 
that  necessity,  much  that  is  a  matter  of  free  alterna- 
tive. Thus,  the  law  of  gravitation  is  a  fixed  part 
of  the  fixed  pattern  of  our  physical  universe ;  yet  it 
is  entirely  compatible  with  the  law  that  I  shall  freely 
choose  to  stand  up  or  to  sit  down, — since  the  fact 
that  I  choose  (once  granted)  does  not  itself  violate 
the  law  of  gravitation  in  the  least,  and  my  standing 
up  or  sitting  down  will  be  in  conformity  to  it  in  any 
event.  To  say  that  an  action  conforms  to  natural 
laws  is  not  to  say  that  it  can  be  wholly  accounted  for 
by  them. 

The  conception  of  universal  determination  is  a 
convenient  one  for  science's  special  purposes;  but 
the  facts  are  never  able  to  bear  it  out.  Every  pre- 
diction of  science  is  a  prediction  with  an  "if";  and 
one  of  the  certain  "if's"  involved  is  this:  If  man 
does  not  interfere.  There  are  other  "if's"  too; 
I  single  out  man  merely  because  man's  freedom 
happens  to  be  our  immediate  subject  of  regard,  as 
well  as  because  science  actually  has  most  trouble  in 
accounting  for  what  men  do  by  its  ascertained  laws. 

223 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

What  men  will  do  contains  always  uncalculated  ele- 
ments. Events  will  naturally  and  necessarily  hap- 
pen thus  and  so,  if  man  does  not  intervene.  This  is 
precisely  what  we  practically  assume,  even  in  a  sci- 
entific laboratory.  We  create  certain  conditions 
which  will  certainly  result  in  certain  effects, — if 
some  one  does  not  meddle  with  the  apparatus,  or  if 
some  one  does  not  upset  the  chemicals.  And  whether 
some  one  will  choose  to  do  this,  science  can  never 
tell.  It  can  say  only  that  if  some  one  does  happen  to 
take  it  into  his  head  to  spoil  the  experiment,  even 
the  spoiling  of  it  will  take  place  according  to  def- 
inite laws.  That  many  things  in  nature  act  in  cer- 
tain definite  ways  does  not  prove  that  man  cannot 
freely  use  them,  any  more  than  the  fact  that  a 
locomotive  runs  according  to  a  certain  mechanism 
proves  that  man  cannot  freely  use  it,  if  he  uses  it 
as  it  has  to  be  used  when  it  is  used  at  all.  Let  it 
be  thoroughly  admitted  that  science  may  choose  to 
ignore  this  human  incalculability  from  the  stand- 
point of  theory;  that  for  its  convenience  it  assumes 
as  its  working  hypothesis  universal  necessitation,  in 
order  to  discover  all  the  uniformities  there  are ;  this 
is  well.  But  this  does  not  prove  that  everything,  as 
a  matter  of  actual  fact,  can  be  reduced  to  uniformi- 
ties, any  more  than  the  famous  hypothesis  of  ether 
— purely  a  working  hypothesis — proves  that  there 
is  such  a  thing.  Science  may  need  and  may  use  the 
hypothesis  of  universal  determination  in  whatever 
form  it  pleases  for  its  own  special  purposes.  But 

224 


AEE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

a  working  hypothesis  of  this  sort,  a  hypothesis  of 
convenience  for  partial  purposes,  must  not  be  con- 
fused with  a  reality.    "But  things  act  as  though  the 
hypothesis  were  true. ' '    I  reply,  * '  Things  don 't ;  for 
predictability  is  the  only  test;  and  up  to  now  you 
do  not  successfully  predict  so  far  as  man  is  con- 
cerned (omitting  other  exceptions  here),  nor  is  it 
possible  for  you  now  to  prove  that  you  ever  can." 
//  a  man  chooses  to  do  this  or  that,  science  can  say 
that  he  must  do  it  in  conformity  to  the  laws  of 
nature ;  but  whether  a  man  will  actually  choose  this 
or  that,  science  can  never  tell.    If  science  replies 
that  it  could  tell  if  it  knew  enough,  the  whole  ques- 
tion is  begged.    For  how  does  science  know  what 
science  could  do  if  science  knew  what  it  does  not 
know?    One  has  just  as  much  of  a  right  to  reply,  If 
you  knew  all  that  natural  science  could  know  about 
a  human  being,  you  could  not  predict  what  he  would 
do.    Either  position  is  based  upon  equal  ignorance. 
The   plain   fact   remains.    Scientific   prediction   is 
continually  upset  by  human  interference.    Astron- 
omy can  more  certainly  predict  an  eclipse  than  a 
chemist  can  predict  the  results  of  a  delicate  experi- 
ment largely  because  astronomers  know  that  their 
phenomena  happen  to  be  free  from  human  interfer- 
ence.   Wherever  man  has  anything  to  do,  the  incal- 
culable sets  in.     Within  regions  where  man  acts, 
the  sequence  of  scientific  events  is  increasingly  tenta- 
tive, and  in  direct  proportion  as  man  has  anything 
to  do  with  them. 

225 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

VI 

So  far,  then,  as  our  outward  acts  are  concerned, 
natural  science  can  neither  prove  nor  disprove  that 
they  are  sometimes  freely  chosen  by  us.  The  very 
incalculability  which  such  free  choices  would  intro- 
duce into  the  physical  world  of  science  is  actually 
found  there;  and  only  scientific  dogmatism  will  ig- 
nore it  by  assuming  as  final  the  hypotheses  that 
express  the  desire  for  a  wholly  mechanistic  order 
of  things.  Emphatically,  science  does  not  disprove 
freedom  of  choice,  so  far  as  our  physical  deeds  are 
concerned. 

But  it  has  been  already  pointed  out  that  all  choice 
between  our  deeds  really  reaches  back  to  a  choice 
between  our  ideas  of  deeds.  So  that  our  real  free- 
dom of  choice  has  to  do  with  what  we  choose  to 
think  or  genuinely  intend.  Thus,  at  the  last,  it  be- 
longs to  the  realm  of  psychology,  rather  than  to 
physical  science.  "We  are  now  driven  to  the  ultimate 
question, — whether  psychology  as  a  science  can  per- 
mit any  such  free  choice  between  our  thoughts.  If 
it  can,  it  has  no  difficulty  in  admitting  freely  chosen 
deeds;  for  practically  all  schools  of  psychology  as- 
sume that  our  voluntary  acts  reach  back  to  the  states 
of  consciousness  that  are  either  the  occasions  or 
causes  of  them. 

Like  physical  science,  psychology  assumes  that 
her  world  is  a  world  of  uniformities,  where  no  ex- 
ception can  be  allowed.  Like  physical  science,  she 

226 


ARE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES! 

finds  it  highly  useful  to  assume  this,  since  it  is 
psychology's  business  as  a  science  to  discover  uni- 
formities; and  she  must  not  prejudice  her  task  by 
assuming  that  here  or  there  her  task  will  be  in  vain. 
But,  again,  like  physical  science,  the  fact  that  her 
most  convenient  working  hypothesis  is  determinism 
does  not  prove  that  every  thought,  every  feeling, 
every  volition  is,  as  a  matter  of  truth,  the  result  of 
deterministic  and  calculable  causes.  Indeed,  the 
psychologists  do  not  succeed  in  reducing  all  that 
we  think  to  laws  of  necessity.  They  fall  far  short 
of  predicting  what  we  shall  think  and,  therefore, 
what  we  shall  do.  This  is  the  ideal  of  psychology; 
but  her  ideal,  worthy  as  it  is,  has  never  been  attained 
and  may  never  be  attained.  In  psychology,  even 
more  than  in  physical  science,  there  is  thus  far  a 
vast  region  of  the  incalculable,  as  well  as  a  goodly 
realm  of  ascertained  uniformities.  And  this  region 
of  the  incalculable  lets  in  the  possibility  of  freedom 
of  choice.  Thus  thought  so  great  a  psychologist  as 
William  James : 

The  fact  is  that  the  question  of  free  urttl  is  insoluble  on 
strictly  psychologic  grounds.  After  a  certain  amount  of 
effort  of  attention  has  been  given  to  an  idea,  it  is  manifestly 
impossible  to  tell  whether  either  more  or  less  of  it  might 
have  been  given  or  not.  .  .  .  Had  one  no  motives  drawn 
from  elsewhere  to  make  one  partial  to  either  solution,  one 
might  easily  leave  the  matter  undecided.  But  a  psycholo- 
gist cannot  be  expected  to  be  thus  impartial,  having  a  great 
motive  in  favor  of  determinism.  He  wants  to  build  a 
Science;  and  a  Science  is  a  system  of  fixed  relations.  Wher- 

227 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

ever  there  are  independent  variables,  there  Science  stops. 
So  far,  then,  as  our  volitions  may  be  independent  variables, 
a  scientific  psychology  must  ignore  that  fact,  and  treat 
of  them  only  so  far  as  they  are  fixed  functions.  In  other 
words,  she  must  deal  with  the  general  laws  of  volition 
exclusively ;  with  the  impulsive  and  inhibitory  character  of 
ideas;  with  the  nature  of  their  appeals  to  the  attention; 
with  the  conditions  under  which  effort  may  arise,  etc. ;  but 
not  with  the  precise  amounts  of  effort,  for  these,  if  our 
wills  be  free,  are  impossible  to  compute.  She  thus  abstracts 
from  free  will,  without  necessarily  denying  its  existence. 
Practically,  however,  such  abstraction  is  not  distinguished 
from  rejection ;  and  most  actual  psychologists  have  no  hesi- 
tation in  denying  that  free  will  exists.1 

Such  a  denial,  however,  is  manifestly  in  the  inter- 
ests of  a  special  point  of  view  and  does  not  finally 
prove  anything.  We  find  psychology  precisely  in 
the  same  situation  as  physical  science;  it  may  not 
like  freedom  of  choice;  it  certainly  cannot  prove 
freedom  of  choice;  but,  just  as  certainly,  it  cannot 
disprove  freedom  of  choice. 

But  what  is  it  in  us  that  does  this  free  choosing, 
regardless  of  previous  events  in  the  outer  world, 
in  spite  of  our  previous  character  and  of  all  the  ex- 
periences that  have  tended  to  make  us  what  we  are 
up-to-date?  Well,  suppose  we  frankly  say  what 
common  sense  would  say,  that  it  is  "I"  that  do  the 
choosing, — the  being  that  I  call  Myself.  What  then! 
Does  psychology  deny  such  a  Self  I  Why,  psychol- 
ogy has  nothing  to  do  with  proving  or  disproving 
such  a  Self,  what  it  is,  or  what  it  can  do.  This  is 

•William  James,  Psychology:  Briefer  Course,  pp.  456,  467. 

228 


ARE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

the  warning  that  any  psychologist  will  state  at  the 
very  threshold  of  his  science ;  he  does  not  deal  with 
what  we  call  the  Self  at  all ;  he  deals  not  even  with 
a  Mind, — but  only  with  passing  mental  states. 
Whether  beneath  or  behind  or  above  mental  states 
there  is  a  perduring  Self,  he  knows  not  and  cares 
not.  It  simply  is  none  of  his  special  affair.  If  he 
goes  beyond  his  field  and  tries  to  disprove  such  a 
Self,  he  ever  finds  himself  caught  in  contradictions 
from  which  logic  can  extricate  him  only  by  assum- 
ing that  we  are,  including  the  psychologist,  Selves, — 
as  common  sense  and  the  predominant  philosophies 
of  twenty-three  centuries  have  insisted. 

Assume,  then,  that  it  is  this  Self  of  ours  that 
freely  chooses;  that  it  is  this  Self  of  ours  that  is 
really  free.  Are  we  challenged  thereupon  to  ex- 
plain just  what  this  Self  is?  Is  it  not  enough  that  it 
is  ?  That  it  must  be  assumed,  even  though  not  thor- 
oughly understood,  just  as  science  has  often  assumed 
entities,  such  as  ether,  although  not  thoroughly  un- 
derstood? If  philosophers  insist  that  the  ego  that 
chooses  must  be  entirely  explained  before  they  can 
accept  freedom  of  its  choice,  then  I  reserve  the  same 
right  to  believe  none  of  their  philosophy  until  they, 
too,  have  cleared  up  just  what  the  ego  is.  How  many 
philosophies  succeed  in  doing  this?  Further,  why 
not  say  that  from  moral  necessity  we  have  learned 
one  thing  at  least  about  the  ego,— namely,  that  it  is 
free?  Perhaps  this  is  the  central  thing  about  it! 
Indeed,  if  it  is  the  essential  precondition  of  all  the 

229 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

other  moral  qualities  of  tlie  Self,  it  is  at  least  one 
of  the  central  things.  The  other  central  thing  is 
rationality,  the  ability  to  choose  according  to  the 
standards  of  reason,  which  even  science  claims  is 
one  of  the  fundamental  and  inalienable  demands  of 
the  human  spirit.  Freedom  and  rationality,  these 
are  the  fundamental  things  that  we  need  to  know 
about  the  Self  to  make  morals  possible, — plus  its 
immortality,  which  we  have  already  argued.  Yes,  a 
Self,  or  ego,  or  person  is  precisely  to  be  denned  as 
that  which  is  to  be  distinguished  from  mere  things 
by  its  power  of  freely  choosing,  of  morally  creating 
its  own  life.  In  all  our  concrete  living  and  thinking, 
we  start  with  the  ego  rather  than  end  with  it:  just 
as  the  famous  philosopher  Descartes  found  he  had 
to  start  with  it,  since  it  was  the  one  thing  he  could 
not  doubt  without  contradiction.  The  trouble  is  that 
we  try  to  get  freedom  as  a  conclusion  from  prem- 
ises ;  whereas,  it  itself  is  the  ultimate  premise  of  all 
life  conceived  as  a  moral  order. 

VII 

Science,  neither  physical  nor  psychological,  can 
disprove  freedom  of  choice.  But  this  fact  does  not 
prove  it,  either.  It  merely  makes  it  a  possibility. 
And  there  is  so  much  scientific  prejudice  against  ac- 
cepting this  mere  possibility  as  something  to  which 
we  shall  finally  commit  ourselves,  that  before  doing 
so  we  ought,  in  all  fairness,  to  scrutinize  one  other 

230 


AEE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES! 

conception  of  freedom  that  has  been  conscientiously 
offered  as  genuinely  giving  us  moral  responsibility 
and  yet  which,  it  is  claimed,  does  not  undermine  the 
conception  of  absolute  determinism,  so  desirable  as 
a  scientific  hypothesis. 

This  conception  of  freedom,  which  claims  to  be  en- 
tirely within  the  spirit  of  science,  urges  that  man  is 
free  in  the  sense  that  while  all  that  he  does  is  the 
product  of  necessity,  his  actions  are  not  only  the  re- 
sult of  causes  outside  him,  but  of  causes  within  him. 
That  is,  he  is  free  in  the  sense  that  what  he  does  is 
not  entirely  the  coercion  of  forces  acting  upon  him 
from  without  himself.  We  are  cautioned  to  remem- 
ber that  it  is  not  only  the  extraneous  influence  that 
acts  upon  one's  character;  but  the  person  himself 
is  to  be  accounted  with ;  he,  too,  reacts  upon  the  ex- 
ternal influence,  be  it  society  or  what  it  may;  he 
is  not  merely  the  plaything  of  his  environment;  he 
helps  mold  his  own  future.  And  this  is  alleged  to 
be  the  real  meaning  of  human  freedom.  Science, 
we  are  told,  would  be  stupid  indeed  if  it  entirely 
eliminated  human  lt freedom"  from  the  vocabulary 
and  gave  it  no  meaning  whatever.  Every  individ- 
ual has  a  character  of  his  own;  his  surroundings 
make  him ;  but  he,  in  turn,  helps  to  fashion  his  sur- 
roundings, and  reacts  upon  their  influence.  Thus, 
a  man  is  free  in  so  far  as  he  has  this  cooperative  part 
in  his  own  destiny.  "I  choose,"  really  means  this: 
' '  I  (my  inner  necessity)  have  a  part  in  my  decision. " 
Can  I  say,  "I  might  have  done  otherwise"?  Yes, 

231 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

just  so  far  as  external  compulsion  is  not  the  whole 
story. 

This  conception  of  freedom  has  been  influential. 
But,  upon  reflection,  does  it  give  man  any  freedom 
of  worth?  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  it  does.  In  this 
sense  of  freedom,  even  a  star,  an  automobile,  a 
snowflake  is  free, — free  in  the  sense  of  having  an 
inner  as  well  as  an  outer  necessity.  Even  a  star 
moves  in  its  orbit  not  merely  because  of  the  world 
of  forces  outside  it,  but  because  of  its  own  mass,  its 
own  constitution  as  just  this  star.  In  this  sense,  it, 
too,  helps  to  mold  its  own  future.  But  this  is  the 
freedom  of  mere  things.  Surely,  we  discriminate  a 
freedom  of  persons  from  that  of  mere  things!  If 
one  denies  the  reality  of  some  such  freedom,  one 
robs  freedom  of  all  its  moral  significance.  Man 
has  no  more  moral  responsibility  than  the  star,  for 
he  has  no  more  freedom  than  it.  He  can  never  say, 
"I  might  have  done  otherwise,"  but  only  "Oh  that 
I  had  been  such  as  to  have  had  the  power  to  have 
done  otherwise!" 

But  it  is  further  urged  that  even  within  this 
conception  man  has  a  freedom  that  things  have  not. 
The  difference  is  that  man  determines  himself  by 
conscious  purposes.  By  such  purposes,  his  life  is 
made  a  unity,  and  all  momentary  decisions  are 
subordinated  to  them.  It  is  claimed  that  this  capa- 
bility of  ordering  one's  life  by  purposes  is  what 
we  mean  by  the  peculiar  freedom  of  the  human  will. 

"Will  this  freedom  satisfy  our  moral  demands? 

232 


ARE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

Does  it  make  man  in  any  sense  responsible  for 
what  he  does?  Surely  not.  For  in  this  way,  free- 
dom is  made  compatible  with  determinism  only  in 
the  lamentable  way  in  which,  in  the  well-known  lim- 
erick, the  Lady  of  Niger  became  compatible  with  the 
tiger.  Truly,  determinism  devours  freedom.  First 
one  says  that  the  individual  has  a  character  of  his 
own;  but  in  the  same  breath  one  asserts  that  this 
very  character  is  the  mere  product  of  an  evolution- 
ary process,  so  that  a  man's  character  is  not  ulti- 
mately his,  but  belongs  at  the  last  to  the  cosmic  whole 
that  made  him.  Then  one  adds  that  man  is  free  be- 
cause he  can  determine  his  life  by  the  idea  of  a 
purpose;  but  here,  again,  the  crucial  question  is, 
What  in  the  last  resort  determines  this  purpose? 
The  reply  is  that  it  is  determined  by  the  character 
of  one's  heredity  and  environment;  and  the  "inner 
necessity"  of  the  individual  is  finally  reduced  to 
outer  necessity.  So  that  a  man's  purpose  is  not 
really  his  own,  any  more  than  he  himself  is  his 
own. 

Thus,  the  determinist's  desperate  alternative  to 
freedom  of  choice  fails  simply  because  it  is  a  free- 
dom that  vanishes  as  soon  as  it  is  analyzed,  leaving 
nothing  but  freedom's  empty  name.  The  failure  of 
this  desperate  alternative  again  throws  us  back  upon 
freedom  of  choice  itself  as  the  freedom  we  want,  the 
freedom  we  must  have  for  a  moral  order;  and  the 
freedom  we  can  readily  have,  so  far  as  any  final 
proofs  against  it  are  concerned.  Even  many  of  those 

233 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

who  cling  to  the  desperate  alternative  just  reviewed 
admit  that  for  a  moral  order  one  must  have  the 
sense  of  freedom  of  choice  anyway,  although  one 
cannot  really  choose.  Yes,  one  must  have  the  sense 
of  freedom  of  choice,  even  if  things  as  they  really 
are  utterly  belie  it;  for  without  it  one  can  never 
feel  the  sense  of  moral  responsibility  absolutely  es- 
sential to  any  sense  of  morals.  And  men  must  per- 
force have  a  sense  of  morals,  a  sense  of  good  and 
bad,  of  right  and  wrong.  To  be  a  human  being  is  to 
think  in  these  terms ;  to  be  a  human  being  is  to  act 
with  the  sense  of  freedom  of  choice ;  to  survive  mor- 
ally is  to  possess  it. 

Accordingly,  one  may  successfully  challenge  any- 
body who  is  a  member  of  a  moral  order  not  to  be- 
lieve that  he  has  freedom  of  choice  while  he  lives  in 
the  practical  world  of  action  and  does  not  merely 
theorize.  We  all  have  to  believe  it  practically, 
whether  our  abstract  speculations  approve  it  or  not. 

One  may  assent  to  this.  One  may  agree  that  one 
has  to  act  as  though  he  had  freedom  of  choice ;  one 
has  to  think  that  he  is  free  to  choose  when  he  loses 
himself  in  the  world  of  deeds.  Yet  one  may  add  that 
the  great  question  still  remains,  Has  one  the  free- 
dom of  choice  he  believes  he  has?  Is  it  not  only  a 
necessary  belief, — not  a  necessary  truth?  The  an- 
swer is  that  it  is  indeed  a  necessary  truth  if  ever 
there  was  any.  For  to  say  that  one  cannot  help  be- 
lieving a  thing  without  contradiction  is  to  have  al- 
ready attained  the  ultimate  test  of  all  truth !  That  ia 

234 


ABE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

just  what  an  uncontrovertible  truth  is, — something 
that  we  cannot  deny  without  contradiction!  The 
moral  aspiration  is  as  real  as  we  are  real;  it  cer- 
tainly is  as  real  as  the  aspiration  for  science  is 
real;  and  if,  as  scientists,  we  may  consider  a  hy- 
pothesis proved  if  to  deny  it  is  to  make  science  im- 
possible; so,  as  moral  beings,  we  may  consider  a 
hypothesis  proved  if  to  deny  it  is  to  make  the  moral 
life  impossible.  And  freedom  of  choice  is  just  such 
a  hypothesis.  It  may  be  answered,  "But  universal 
determinism  is  just  such  a  hypothesis  too  for 
science."  So  you  have  on  your  hands  two  contra- 
dictory hypotheses,  equally  proved!  I  answer:  "I 
deny  that  universal  determinism  is  a  necessary  hy- 
pothesis of  science;  I  have  already  urged  that  the 
necessary  hypothesis  for  science  is  that  there  are 
some  universal  uniformities  in  nature ;  not  that  there 
is  nothing  but  universal  uniformities, — however  con- 
venient it  may  be  to  assume  so  for  science's  special 
search. " 

So  the  necessary  hypotheses  of  science  and  of 
morals  do  not  conflict;  one  can  conceive  of  a  world 
containing  scientific  uniformities,  and  yet  containing 
within  it  freedom  of  alternatives.  But  even  if  it 
unfortunately  happened  that  freedom  of  choice  con- 
flicted with  the  necessary  hypotheses  of  science,  and 
that  we  had  thus  the  tragic  choice  between  destroy- 
ing the  moral  life  on  the  one  hand,  or  scientific  activ- 
ity on  the  other,  which  would  we  choose?  I  think 
that  the  last  thing  that  we  would  relinquish  is  the 

235 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

reality  of  the  moral  life;  for  the  moral  meaning 
of  life  is  the  heart  of  its  reality,  and  even  science 
is  one  of  the  servants  of  its  everlasting  purposes. 
Still,  if  some  one  is  so  exclusively  devoted  to  scien- 
tific hypotheses  that  he  can  see  nought  else  in  life ; 
and  if  he  says:  "We  cannot  bribe  our  convictions 
even  by  the  fair  world  you  have  so  fondly  molded  to 
your  heart's  desire.  We  cannot  refuse  truth  because 
it  shatters  some  dreams,  or  seems  to  bode  us  ill,  or 
seems  to  infringe  upon  the  ultimate  reality  of  favor- 
ite conceptions.  Yea,  even  should  the  truth  destroy 
us,  yet  will  we  trust  in  truth!"  If  some  one  says 
this,  I  merely  reply,  "If  the  truster  be  slain,  how 
then  may  he  trust?"  Truth  that  destroys  every 
value  of  life  betrays  life;  it  is  not  truth,  but  a 
semblance. 

vm 

So  far  as  nature  is  concerned,  man  may  claim 
his  freedom.  But  how  can  he  be  free  from  the  will 
of  God?  This  is  an  ancient  question,  and  our  argu- 
ment cannot  conclude  without  meeting  it.  For  the 
final  solution  of  whether  man  is  the  master  of  his 
fate  rests  upon  the  nature  of  the  total  universe,  of 
which  man,  with  both  his  morals  and  his  science,  is 
but  a  part.  Now,  in  the  last  chapter,  the  bolder 
outlines  of  a  theory  of  the  total  universe  were  ven- 
tured. The  Totality  of  Things  was  finally  conceived 
as  a  Life,  fulfilling  itself  through  an  infinite  series  of 

236 


ARE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

deeds  that  progress  more  and  more  toward  the  ideal 
that  is  the  goal  of  every  man.  But  the  trouble  we 
found  at  the  end  of  our  quest  for  God  was  that 
man's  freedom  seemed  grievously  imperiled.  If 
God  is  All,  man  is  only  a  part ;  and  if  only  a  part,  all 
that  he  is  and  does  seems  to  be  absolutely  determined 
by  that  Life  which  is  not  his,  but  which  possesses 
and  engulfs  him.  The  theory  we  reached  appears  to 
reduce  man  to  God,  and  so  to  lose  man  in  God.  It 
seems  to  belong  to  that  interminable  succession  of 
philosophic  views  that  find  a  solution  of  all  problems 
in  the  One  Reality,  the  One  and  Sole  Being,  the 
Absolute,  that  lies  behind  the  innumerable  and  di- 
verse phenomena  of  the  world,  and  thus  determines 
all  else  either  by  its  efficient  causation,  or  by  its  own 
purpose  ruling  all  things  imperiously.  If  the  indi- 
vidual is  ultimately  reducible  to  One  and  All,  as 
such  philosophies  and  some  religions  seem  to  imply, 
then  there  is  only  one  being  that  is  not  extraneously 
determined,  and  that  is  the  One  and  All,  who  alone 
is  self-determined  and  free.  Thus  it  seems  that  if 
we  escape  total  determination  by  nature,  we  do  so 
only  by  surrendering  to  a  total  determination  by 
God.  For  try  as  you  may  to  put  man  independently 
outside  of  God,  you  find  logical  difficulties  that  are 
insuperable.  All  historic  attempts  of  this  character 
tend  to  reduce  man  back  to  God  by  principles  latent 
in  them;  or,  they  end  in  irrational  chaos,  which  is 
the  same  as  reducing  them  to  nought.  This  is  not  a 
solution  of  reality,  but  its  dissolution.  For  human 

237 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

reason  simply  must  think  of  the  universe  as  a  unity, 
and  however  you  conceive  of  that  unity,  man,  the 
mere  part,  seems  to  be  helpless  in  its  presence.  He 
is  not  free. 

It  is  odd  that  men  should  argue  thus.  For  sup- 
pose we  fully  admit  that  man  is  a  mere  part  of  the 
universal  Life  that  is  God?  The  question  of  the 
freedom  of  a  part  is  not  solved  by  merely  calling 
attention  to  the  fact  that  it  is  part  of  a  whole.  The 
vital  question  is,  Just  what  is  the  relation  subsisting 
between  the  part  called  man  and  the  whole  called 
God?  There  are  several  possible  ways  of  conceiving 
this  relation.  If  the  relation  is  this, — that  at  some 
moment  in  some  remote  time  God  created  and  forced 
man  to  be  what  he  is,  of  course  man  is  not  free. 
What  he  does  is  the  result  of  what  he  was  made; 
and  for  what  he  was  made,  God  is  to  be  held  respon- 
sible. But  suppose  we  avoid  any  such  notion  in 
whatever  form  it  is  put,  and  conceive  of  man  as  un- 
created and  coeternal  with  and  in  God.  In  that  case, 
man  can  no  longer  blame  God  for  what  he  is,  any 
more  than  God  can  hold  man  responsible  for  what 
He  is.  Neither  created  the  other;  both  are  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting,  as  our  immortality  as- 
serts. Nor  am  I  lost  in  God;  nay,  in  Him  I  find 
myself ;  for  his  Life  is  the  Life  I  seek  in  my  imper- 
fection. And  I  freely  seek  it;  for  I  seek  it  from 
my  own  nature,  for  which  no  one  else  is  responsible, 
since  I,  with  all  others,  including  God,  always  was. 
Yes,  my  will  is  indeed  God's  will;  but  my  will  can 

238 


ABE  ,WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES! 

be  the  same  as  His  without  His  will's  being  imposed 
upon  me,  just  as  His  will  may  be  mine,  without  mine 
being  imposed  upon  God.  No  one  other  than 
myself  is  accountable  for  my  deed;  the  approval  or 
disapproval  of  it  is  truly  the  praise  or  blame  of 
myself  as  the  preponderant  source  of  it.  I  create 
my  life.  I  realize  myself  in  my  own  way  through 
myself.  Even  the  laws  of  nature  are  precisely  the 
means  and  material  of  that  total  Life  I  seek,  the 
Life  that  includes  them  and  all  that  is. 

But  one  more  question  remains.  How  can  free- 
dom of  choice  be  if  the  total  universe  has  to  be 
thought  of  as  a  harmony,  involving  that  each  item 
in  it,  and  so  each  deed  that  a  man  can  do,  no  matter 
what,  is  exactly  what  it  ought  to  be,  since  it  be- 
longs to  a  rational  whole  where  everything  is  in 
its  place,  where  nothing  can  be  otherwise,  without 
marring  the  universe?  Is  it  not  true  that,  in  the 
long  run,  even  admitting  life's  countless  sins — its 
lies  and  thefts  and  murders — each  deed  fits  in  with 
all  the  rest,  so  that  freedom  of  choice  would 
mean  to  change  predestined  deeds  that  belong 
just  where  they  are  in  the  universal  scheme  of 
things  ? 

Well,  suppose  it  to  be  true  that  the  universal  Life, 
when  it  is  thought  of  as  complete,  does  find  a  proper 
place  for  every  deed  that  man  has  done.  They 
can  still  be  deeds  that  were  freely  chosen,  can  they 
not? — unless  you  hold  that  your  universe  can  be 
made  rationally  harmonious  only  with  a  chain  of 

239 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

certain  particular  deeds  and  no  others?  But  why 
not  think  of  your  universe  as  having  alternative 
harmonies?  The  one  fixed  thing,  morally,  is  that, 
in  the  long  run,  every  deed,  whatever  it  is,  must  be 
so  adjusted  to  every  other  deed  that,  seen  as  a 
total,  the  universe  at  last  is  completely  good  in  the 
final  triumph  of  the  right.  But  this  does  not  mean 
that  only  certain  deeds  can  be  done  in  it  and  no 
others.  It  merely  means  that  whatever  deed  I  do 
freely  choose,  it  morally  obligates  me  to  choose 
other  deeds  that  go  with  it,  if  I  am  true  to  my 
moral  ideals,  as  in  the  long  run  I  must  be.  Thus, 
I  can  freely  choose  to  keep  my  promise  or  to  break 
it;  but  having  once  freely  chosen,  my  other  deeds 
shall  relate  themselves  to  this  choice.  If  I  freely 
break  my  promise,  I  must  freely  atone  for  it  by 
deeds  I  would  not  have  done  had  I  been  honorable. 
The  moral  universe  is  a  world  of  progressive  ad- 
justments and  readjustments.  My  future  life  is 
partially  determined  by  the  choices  I  have  already 
freely  made.  There  is  never  a  time  when  I  can 
free  myself  from  the  choices  of  yesterday;  and  yet 
there  is  never  a  time  when  I  cannot  transfigure  them, 
redeem  them,  by  new  choices.  Our  freedom  extends 
even  to  the  past.  It  is  not  true  that  our  yesterdays 
are  "irrevocable,'7  as  we  so  often  say.  Even  in 
nature,  every  succeeding  event  transforms  and  il- 
lumines the  meaning  of  all  events  that  happened 
before.  The  future  is  no  more  a  product  of  the 
past  than  the  past  is  the  inexorable  product  of  the 

240 


ARE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

infinite  and  free  future.    All  belongs  to  the  free  and 
eternal  choices  still  within  man's  power. 

We  cannot,  indeed,  recall  the  past  that  is  behind  any 
specific  present;  but  it  is  only  a  past  thus  arbitrarily  iso- 
lated that  is  fixed.  The  real  past  is  a  flowing  whole,  and 
we  are  forever  pouring  the  future  into  the  flood,  through 
the  gate  of  the  present.  Our  past  is  really  always  changing, 
and  it  is  we  who  initiate  the  change ;  and  so  the  past,  though 
no  part  of  it  can  be  recalled,  is  perpetually  being  re-created 
and  transformed,  now  for  the  worse,  now  for  the  better,  as 
its  whole  goes  on  unfolding.  But  the  whole  it  is  within 
the  compass  of  our  freedom  to  bring  into  fuller  and  fuller 
harmony  with  our  active  vision  of  our  Ideal,  in  which  at 
source  the  freedom  consists.2 

A  thief  chooses  to  steal.  The  fact  that  he  stole 
is  a  fact  forever.  It  is  irrevocable.  But  now  he 
repents  of  his  deed.  And  lo,  the  deed  is  no  longer 
what  it  was;  it  is  changed,  transformed.  It  is  no 
longer  the  deed  of  an  unrepentant  thief,  as  it  was ; 
henceforth,  it  is  to  be  newly  defined  as  the  deed  of 
a  thief  who  repented.  It  was  a  repentant  thief  that 
the  Nazarene  forgave. 

The  total  universe  will  keep  to  its  harmonious  pat- 
tern in  spite  of  our  free  choices,  yes,  because  of 
them,  for  the  simple  reason  that  we  men  are  not  only 
fundamentally  free,  but  fundamentally  rational. 
This  is  the  ultimate  limit  of  all  our  freedom  of 
choice, — that,  in  the  final  issue,  we  cannot  and  will 
not  violate  ourselves  as  rational  beings  that  seek  and 

'George  Holmes  Howison,  The  Limits  of  Evolution  and  Other 
Essays,  1st  edition,  pp.  379-380. 

241 


demand  a  rational  sum  of  all  the  thoughts  and  acts 
that  make  up  life's  infinite  whole. 

As  we  grow  older,  it  sometimes  seems  as  though 
our  past  choices  tyrannize  over  us  more  and  more. 
We  are  no  longer  so  free  as  we  were  when  we 
were  young,  with  our  decisive  choices  still  unmade. 
And  yet,  in  the  deepest  sense,  if  we  have  lived  a 
growing  life,  our  range  of  choices  is  becoming  wider 
and  more  various  with  every  day.  For  our  knowl- 
edge of  life  is  ever  increasing,  and  life's  alternatives 
are  more  numerous  as  our  vision  widens.  The 
chances  a  wise  man  sees  are  more  various  than  at- 
tend the  narrower  vision  of  youth.  To  grow  is  to 
become  freer,  not  less  free.  Culture  increases  life's 
possibilities  and  our  command  over  them.  This 
wider  freedom  is  infinitely  in  the  future  of  every 
man. 

IX 

Our  mastery  of  fate  is  in  our  hands.  Our  moral 
faith  is  secure.  Our  solution  rests  upon  the  moral 
interpretation  of  what  science's  total  universe 
means;  what  God  and  man  ultimately  are,  without 
challenging  science's  world  of  uniformities,  so  far 
as  science  has  determined  them,  or  needs  them.  And 
in  making  this  interpretation,  we  have  not  en- 
croached unbecomingly  upon  a  problem  really  be- 
longing to  science ;  for  no  science  even  pretends  to 
interpret  the  universe  in  its  totality. 

242 


ARE  WE  MASTERS  OF  OUR  FATES? 

Finally,  this  solution  is  not  the  denial  of  determin- 
ism in  the  universe  in  the  interests  of  freedom;  but 
it  is  the  rational  conciliation  of  determinism  and 
freedom.  One  may  be  a  determinist  in  all  that  the 
notion  demands  without  waging  an  eternal  warfare 
upon  freedom,  finding  compatibility  only  by  letting 
determinism  devour  freedom,  as  my  saying  was. 
We  can  now  see  that  extreme  determinism  and  in- 
determinism  both  hang  themselves,  if  given  enough 
rope.  Extreme  determinism  dissolves  itself  be- 
cause it  contradicts  every  moral  fact  of  man's 
nature.  Extreme  indeterminism  likewise  refutes  it- 
self, for  it  turns  out  to  be  mere  chaos. 

Every  thoroughgoing  investigation  of  the  problem 
of  freedom  must  inevitably  lead  to  the  somewhat  un- 
familiar regions  whither  our  search  has  led  us, — to 
those  ultimate  and  fascinating  questions  of  the 
fundamental  nature  of  human  personality,  and  the 
final  meaning  of  that  great  Nature  which  is  our 
home.  Short  of  facing  these  problems,  the  question 
of  freedom  can  never  be  solved.  And,  viewing  your 
world  and  yourself  within  the  final  meanings  that 
we  have  uncovered,  you  will,  if  I  am  right,  have 
come  upon  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  faith  that  makes 
for  moral  valor, — a  faith  that  you  are  truly  free 

By  this  main  miracle  that  thou  art  thou, 

"With  power  on  thine  own  act  and  on  the  world. 

These  are  your  alternatives:  morals  with  freedom 
of  choice,  or  no  morals.    Take  your  choice.    But 

243 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

remember,  whichever  way  you  choose,  it  is  quite 
possible  that  you  are  exercising  the  very  freedom  of 
choice  that  we  have  been  discussing.  And  in  doing 
so,  you  shall  be  held  morally  responsible ! 


PART  m 

PRESENT  TENDENCIES,  TOWARD 
MORAL  FAITH 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  MORAL  ORDER  AS  DEMOCRACY 

TRUTH,  like  life,  is  "a  dome  of  many-colored 
glass. ' J  If  one  looks  only  at  the  separate  colors  of 
truth's  infinite  variety,  one  is  lost  in  a  detail  that 
gives  no  total  vision.  Color  by  color,  fragment  by 
fragment,  we  have  been  finding  life's  truths,  and 
have  been  busy  putting  them  in  their  separate 
places.  We  may  now  survey  the  finished  dome. 
"When  viewed  in  its  completed  wholeness,  it  not  only 
stains  but  reveals,  albeit  dimly,  "the  white 
radiance"  of  life's  meaning  in  its  fullness. 

Through  the  contemporary  conflict  of  ideals  and 
its  resulting  moral  skepticism  we  came  upon  a  so- 
lution ;  a  solution  that  announced  that  the  conflicting 
ideals  of  what  men  strive  for  do  not  really  exclude 
one  another,  although  they  ever  seem  so  to  do ;  that 
all  these  conflicting  ideals  imply  a  moral  end  which 
includes  them  every  one,  and  transcends  them  every 
one ;  that  this  all-inclusive  ideal  is  to  be  regarded  as 
the  true  moral  standard  that  ever  remains  the  same 
amid  all  moral  change;  that  this  ideal  is  the  ex- 
pression of  the  imperative  desire  of  all  human 
beings  that  all  human  desires,  so  far  as  may  be, 
shall  be  fulfilled, — the  inalienable  desire  for  total 

247 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

self-realization,  for  fullness  of  life.  This  is  life's 
first,  its  fundamental  verity.  We  further  found 
that  if  this  ideal  is  but  vaguely  defined,  it  is  but 
natural,  since  part  of  our  moral  growth  is  the  in- 
creasing definition  of  its  goal  as  we  advance.  We 
also  made  it  clear  that  since  each  partial  ideal  im- 
plies all  the  rest,  the  supreme  need  of  men  is  the 
moral  confidence  to  seek  whatever  ideal  seems  best 
to  each  man,  with  the  knowledge  that  if  one  seeks 
seriously  and  rationally  any  one  of  the  ideals  of 
moral  manhood,  he  will  emerge  upon  the  others  in 
due  time ;  that  what  we  need  most  of  all,  therefore, 
is  precisely  this  moral  faith,  this  undef eatable  moral 
idealism  that  does  seek  without  wavering  and  with- 
out betrayal. 

We  soon  discovered  that  this  moral  faith  is  not 
a  simple  thing  for  reasonable  men.  For  such  men 
it  can  be  no  matter  of  mere  sentiment,  but  must  be 
grounded  in  a  large  conviction  of  what  man  and 
his  world  fundamentally  are.  And  in  spite  of  the 
dogmatism  of  science,  which  at  times  has  seemed 
to  threaten  man's  every  moral  possession,  and 
through  a  better  understanding  of  science's  limits 
and  the  logical  rights  of  the  moral  order,  of  which 
science  is  only  a  part,  we  have  come  gradually  and 
surely  to  the  three  verities  that  alone  can  give  life 
a  meaning  without  contradiction, — the  three  im- 
memorial verities  of  Immortality,  God,  and  Free- 
dom, rescued  from  the  reasons  that  have  become 
faulty  to  the  modern  mind,  and  made  newly  cogent 

248 


THE  MORAL  ORDER  AS  DEMOCRACY 

by  reasons  that  meet  an  honest  modern  criticism. 
The  truths  that  have  fashioned  so  many  great  men 
and  great  civilizations  rise  again  with  renewed 
power  to  solve  a  new  world's  problems  and  to  build 
a  new  world-order. 

But  in  spite  of  all  that  we  have  done,  our  vision 
is  not  yet  intimate  enough,  warm  enough,  not  yet 
near  enough  to  our  concrete  life  as  we  actually  live 
it.  We  must  gather  the  truths  that  we  have  reached 
into  a  perspective  that  will  appeal  to  the  imagina- 
tion, relate  it  more  directly  to  to-day's  world,  reveal 
the  immediate  obstacles  to  its  realization,  and  dis- 
cover what  actual  tendencies  toward  it  are  present 
in.  our  civilization,  now  rife  with  so  many  signifi- 
cant changes. 

For  us  men,  the  central,  the  most  practical  con- 
cern in  any  view  of  the  world  is  what  sort  of  being 
man  himself  really  is.  What  is  his  significance  in 
the  scheme  of  things  f  What  are  his  ultimate  worth, 
his  chances,  his  legitimate  hopes?  In  what  light  is 
he  to  regard  himself  when  all  is  said  and  done? 

Fortunately,  our  study  of  the  great  verities  has 
revealed  a  great  deal  about  what  man  is  and  how  he 
must  henceforth  think  of  himself  if  his  civilization 
is  to  be  made  of  reasonable  service  to  him.  Un- 
equivocally, it  is  in  terms  of  these  discovered  truths 
of  what  men  really  are  that  all  institutions  of  the 
new  regime  must  be  reformed  and  redirected.  Just 
what,  then,  are  these  truths  about  you  and  me  and 
all  of  us  that  we  have  gained,  and  that  are  to 

249 


THE  TKUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

furnish  the  needed  incentive  for  the  efficient  begin- 
nings of  the  ideal  moral  order? 

Here  it  is  that  we  come  upon  a  momentous  fact. 
These  truths  about  the  nature  of  men  and  society 
are  no  more  or  less  than  what  are  proclaimed  by 
that  greatest  of  modern  movements  called  democ- 
racy! 

For  modern  democracy,  too,  is  fundamentally  a 
vision  concerning  what  men  really  are.  It,  too,  an- 
nounces man's  ultimate  worth,  his  chances,  and  his 
legitimate  hopes.  And  it  does  so  by  the  distinct 
truths  that  all  men  are  to  be  regarded  as  equal  and 
free;  as  of  infinite  worth  and  capable  of  endless 
growth;  as  inalienably  social;  and  as  inalienably 
rational,  the  capable  source  of  their  own  intellec- 
tual authority.1  These  are  the  fighting  points  of 
modern  democracy.  These,  too,  are  precisely  the 
truths  about  men  that  our  study  of  the  great  verities 
has  revealed  and  justified. 

Briefly,  and  viewing  democracy's  premises  one 
by  one,  let  us  see  that  this  is  so. 

If  democracy  insists  that  men  are  to  be  regarded 
as  capable  of  endless  growth,  never  to  be  arbitrarily 
arrested  by  the  barriers  of  caste  or  the  closed  doors 
of  opportunity,  so  does  the  ideal  moral  order  that 
the  great  verities  have  given  us.  "Whoever  you 
are,  to  you  endless  announcements!"  The  very 
nature  of  the  moral  ideal  already  insists  upon  it, 
man's  relation  to  God  proclaims  it,  and  man's  ever- 

1  Cf.  the  author,  The  College  and  New  America,  pp.  126  fl. 

250 


THE  MORAL  ORDER  AS  DEMOCRACY 

lasting  chance  is  already  affirmed  in  his  immortality. 

If  democracy  proclaims  men  to  be  of  infinite 
value,  so  does  the  moral  order  we  have  attained. 
If  man  is  infinite  in  his  moral  reach,  he  is  infinite 
in  his  moral  worth,  just  as  democracy  knows  him 
to  be.  For  neither  in  democracy,  nor  in  the  moral 
order  as  we  now  see  it,  are  men  like  commodities 
whose  worth  can  be  appraised.  Rather  are  they 
that  for  which  all  values  exist.  That  which  is  it- 
self the  end  or  purpose  of  all  uses  cannot  in  turn  be 
used  and  evaluated  according  to  its  use;  that 
which  is  the  measure  of  every  value  is  not  itself  sub- 
ject to  a  measure  of  degrees  of  value.  Now,  this  is 
exactly  what  men  are;  not  things  to  be  used  and 
valued  in  finite  degrees,  but  the  ends  for  which  all 
values  exist,  and  so  the  criteria  of  all  values.  All 
men  are  thus  of  incalculable  value, — this  is  the 
thesis  of  any  genuine  moral  order.  Under  no  cir- 
cumstances can  they  depreciate  in  terms  of  finite 
degrees  of  worth. 

This  conception  of  the  moral  order  is  akin  to 
Kant's  famous  conception  of  a  Kingdom  of  Ends, 
in  which  every  person  is  both  citizen  and  sovereign. 
Such  a  conception  further  agrees  with  Kant  in  its 
fundamental  distinction  between  persons  and  mere 
things;  things  may  be  used,  but  persons  are  to  be 
revered  as  ends  in  themselves.  This  is  the  reason 
why  human  slavery  of  any  sort  is  a  contradiction; 
unless,  indeed,  one  can  successfully  deny  that  the 
slave  is  a  person! 

251 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

If  democracy  asserts  the  great  truth  of  man's 
essential  equality,  so  does  the  view  of  life  that  our 
truths  have  so  far  given  us.  For  both  alike,  just 
because  each  man  is  of  supreme  value,  no  man  is  of 
any  more  value  than  another.  This  is  what  we  mean 
when  we  say  men  are  equal.  Speaking  concretely, 
it  is  this  truth  that  is  the  basis  of  the  right  of  equal 
sovereignty.  Equality  before  the  law  is  also  a 
corollary  of  it.  Inequality  of  civil  rights,  the  sanc- 
tion of  any  sort  of  special  privilege  (except  for 
temporary  expediency)  would  mean  that  not  all  men 
are  of  incalculable  worth,  but  that  some  of  them  can 
be  graded  and  rejected.  Equality  of  worth  also 
carries  with  it  equality  of  opportunity,  not  only  be- 
fore the  institution  of  law,  but  before  every  insti- 
tution that  the  moral  order  creates.  "I  will  accept 
nothing  which  all  cannot  have  their  counterpart  of 
on  the  same  terms. ' '  For  the  doctrine  of  equal  pos- 
sibilities without  that  of  equal  opportunity  would 
be  a  mockery.  Professor  Dewey  insists,  after 
Lowell,  upon  "the  form  of  society  in  which  every 
man  has  a  chance  and  knows  that  he  has  it — and 
we  may  add,  a  chance  to  which  no  possible  limits 
can  be  put,  a  chance  which  is  truly  infinite,  the 
chance  to  become  a  person.  Equality,  in  short,  is 
the  ideal  of  humanity."2  President  Butler  also 
emphasizes  the  ethical  obligation  to  give  equal  op- 
portunities to  all,  declaring  that  the  true  social  order 

•John  Dewey,  The  Ethics  of  Democracy,  p.  25.  (University  of 
Michigan  Philosophical  Papers,  Second  Series,  No.  1.) 

252 


THE  MORAL  ORDER  AS  DEMOCRACY 

cries,  "All  men  up  to  the  height  of  their  fullest 
capacity  for  service  and  achievement.'*3 

If  democracy  looks  upon  men  as  social  by  nature, 
with  inalienable  social  obligations  and  rights, — - 
well,  we  too  have  found  that  each  man's  life  includes 
the  life  of  his  fellows.  For  the  ideal  of  the  moral 
order  has  been  revealed  as  the  commonly  shared 
ideal  of  all  men,  which  unites  them  all  in  one  com- 
mon purpose  and  makes  the  moral  interest  of  all  the 
interest  of  each  and  every  one. 

And,  finally,  if  democracy  regards  men  as  free, 
we  too  have  come  upon  the  real  meaning  of  this 
same  freedom  in  the  power  of  each  man  freely  to 
choose  his  life  in  some  measure.  This  has  been 
vindicated  as  necessary  for  moral  faith,  and  has 
been  guaranteed  in  such  a  way  as  to  violate  no 
proved  scientific  uniformity,  lifting  man  to  an  as- 
sured place  of  moral  accountability.  Practically, 
any  moral  order  must  recognize  this  freedom,  not 
only  as  man's  possibility  but  as  his  overt  right. 
Yes,  the  bounds  of  freedom  must  be  steadily  eni- 
larged  by  removing  all  impediments  to  freedom  of 
thought,  of  speech,  of  decision,  so  far  as  this  is  com- 
patible with  the  equal  freedom  of  all  men.  And  by 
opportunities  of  education  this  same  freedom  must 
grow  constantly  more  rational  and  so  more  safe. 
For,  with  democracy,  the  moral  order  regards  each 
man  as  fundamentally  rational  and  so  the  capable 
and  ultimate  source  of  his  own  convictions. 

1  Nicholas  Murray  Butler,  True  and  False  Democracy,  p.  15. 

253 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

These  truths,  then,  at  which  we  have  arrived  turn 
out  to  be  the  supreme  practical  challenges  of  the 
day,  not  merely  theoretical  vagaries!  For  these 
very  truths  it  is  that  we  urge  that  democracy  be 
made  safe.  The  ideal  moral  order  and  democracy 
are  one  and  the  same.  So  that  whether  or  not  we 
agree  with  the  reasonings  that  have  led  to  the  vision 
of  the  moral  order,  it  is  on  our  hands  anyway  in  the 
name  of  democracy,  the  one  world-ideal  in  which 
men  now  resolutely  put  their  ultimate  trust!  Ont 
of  the  great  verities  comes  democracy.  And  this 
is  fortunate.  For  the  only  guarantee  of  democracy's 
ultimate  success  is  a  downright  faith  that  it  is  not 
only  desirable,  but  the  only  justifiable  moral  order ; 
that  man  and  his  world  are  fundamentally  so  made 
that  democracy  is  the  only  reasonable  choice. 

But  this  is  only  part  of  the  truth  about  democracy 
as  a  moral  order.  For  if  the  great  verities  call  for 
democracy,  it  is  equally  a  fact  that  democracy,  in 
turn,  calls  strenuously  for  the  great  verities  and 
includes  them  as  an  actual  part  of  its  practical  pro- 
gram when  democracy  is  made  consciously  complete. 
If  the  moral  order  is  the  verification  of  democracy, 
democracy  itself,  carried  to  its  logical  conclusion, 
becomes  in  turn  the  supreme  vindication  of  the 
truths  men  live  by! 

We  cannot  evade  ultimate  questions  if  we  would. 
Carry  the  logic  of  the  simplest  truth  far  enough, 
and  we  arrive  at  the  big  questions  with  which  great 
minds  have  lived  since  men  began  to  seek  what 

254 


THE  MORAL  ORDER  AS  DEMOCRACY 


life  means.  Even  the  scientist  often  finds 
led  by  the  logic  of  his  physics,  his  astronomy,  his 
chemistry,  away  from  its  narrow  confines  to  where 
the  larger  questions  await  and  imperatively  call  for 
solution,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  his  special  science. 
He  cannot  speak  daily  of  such  things  as  Space  and 
Time  and  Energy  and  Motion  without  being  led 
some  day,  if  he  be  a  thoughtful  man,  to  a  consider- 
ation of  their  deeper  nature  and  larger  significance. 
So  it  is  with  the  moral  order  called  democracy. 

For  instance,  one  cannot  announce  the  measure- 
less capacities  of  democracy's  man  with  full  truth 
unless  one  is  also  willing  to  imply  that  possibility 
of  infinite  progress  which  we  call  immortality.  The 
alleged  social  nature  of  democracy's  man  can  be 
made  finally  intelligible  only  in  a  world  where  the 
moral  ideal  includes  all  one's  fellows  and  is  the  same 
for  all  of  them,  —  the  ideal  that  has  been  shown  to 
be  the  God  of  our  struggle,  in  whom  men  verity  live 
and  move  and  have  their  being.  One  cannot  suc- 
cessfully Tnflfntftin  the  freedom  of  democracy's  man 
unless  one  holds  that  at  the  last  he  is  free  from  the 
compulsion  that  is  resident  in  every  view  of  the 
world  that  makes  him  the  mere  helpless  product  of 
physical  causes,  or  of  a  Win  that  engulfs  him;  and 
just  this  freedom  of  self-activity,  expressed  in  a 
freedom  of  choice  which  renders  us  the  masters  of 
our  fates,  has  been  already  interpreted  and,  I  think, 
justified.  One  can  insist  without  vanity  upon  the 
infinite  and  equal  value  of  democracy's  man  only  in 

255 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

view  of  those  things  that  give  him  infinite  value, — 
his  social  inclusion  of  all,  his  underived  nature,  and 
his  chance  endlessly  to  achieve  infinite  values. 
Democracy's  belief  in  the  rational  nature  of  man  im- 
plies the  rational  nature  of  the  world  he  seeks  to 
conquer,  and  is  itself  a  corollary  of  any  real  free- 
dom to  conquer  it.  And  the  fullness  of  life  that  he 
finds  himself  seeking — a  life  transcending  momen- 
tary desires  and  all  narrower  moral  ideals — is  vin- 
dicated only  in  the  moral  ideal  whose  abundance  is 
the  richness  of  God  Himself,  the  Goal  that  includes 
every  value  for  which  men  fight,  that  perfection  of 
Truth  and  Beauty  and  Goodness  which  is  the  inter- 
pretation of  all  the  genuine  progress  of  civilization. 
Yes,  the  final  vindication  of  the  meaning  of  democ- 
racy's man  is  found  only  in  the  three  great  verities; 
of  a  surety,  they  are  the  truths  he  lives  by!  And 
of  all  the  tendencies  toward  the  concrete  realization 
of  these  larger  truths  of  democracy,  the  most  im- 
portant is  the  tendency  toward  belief  in  them,  be- 
cause such  belief  is  logically  and  practically  first. 
First  of  all,  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  must  be  within 
you,  or  you  will  never  be  able  to  project  it  into  the 
world  outside  you.  The  progress  of  democracy  must 
ever  include  a  growing  apprehension  of  what  democ- 
racy is  and  implies. 

But  if  this  is  so,  the  practical  question  is  whether 
democracy  now  exhibits  any  appreciable  tendency 
toward  such  an  understanding  faith.  And  in 
answering  this  question,  one  resorts  to  those  move- 

256 


THE  MOKAL  ORDER  AS  DEMOCRACY 

merits  more  intimately  concerned  with  the  things 
of  the  spirit,  such  as  the  literary,  educational,  and 
religious  tendencies  of  our  time.  Of  these  three 
movements,  the  religious  is  obviously  the  most  sig- 
nificant as  naturally  and  almost  exclusively  en- 
trusted with  a  people's  ultimate  faiths.  To  this  we 
now  turn. 


CHAPTER  XI 

MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

Or  the  many  ways  by  which  men  attain  convictions 
concerning  the  moral  order,  the  commonest  is  the 
religious  way.  In  our  everyday  lives  we  see  the 
world  as  a  series  of  isolated  events,  often  set  over 
against  each  other  in  conflict.  Religion  furnishes 
what  "the  ideal  unity  of  our  consciousness  demands, 
a  perfectly  harmonious  and  intelligible  universe." 
There  is  a  "want  of  completeness  in  our  lives,  a 
want  of  poetic  justice  in  our  fates.  It  is  chiefly  on 
this  side  that  religion  touches  on  ethics."1  Or,  as 
Perry  expresses  it  in  discussing  the  moral  value  of 
religion:  "Religion  promulgates  the  idea  of  life 
as  a  whole,  and  composes  and  proportions  its 
activities  with  reference  to  their  ultimate  end. 
Religion  advocates  not  the  virtues  in  their  severalty, 
but  the  whole  moral  enterprise."  a 


There  is  little  doubt  that  religion  owes  its  very 
rise  as  well  as  its  continued  existence  to  the  need 

1 J.  8.  Mackenzie,  Manual  of  Ethics,  p.  444. 

*  Ralph  Barton  Periy,  The  Moral  Economy,  p.  253. 

258 


MOEAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

for  faith  in  the  moral  order.  From  one  point  of 
view — perhaps  the  best  point  of  view — religion 
might  be  defined  as  faith  in  those  great  verities  that 
make  a  moral  order  possible.  Its  origin  comes  of 
the  oldest  cry  of  reflective  minds,  doubtful  amid  the 
maze  of  events  and  the  manifold  mysteries  of  life, 
1 '  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  f ' '  Saved  from  what  ? 
Saved  from  the  wrong  and  saved  to  the  right; 
saved  from  the  triumph  of  the  bad  and  saved  to 
the  victory  of  the  good.  It  means  a  cry  for  certainty 
amid  uncertainty,  a  demand  for  verities  that  beget 
moral  confidence.  Of  this  demand  have  arisen  all 
the  significant  faiths  of  religion;  just  as  even  an 
atheist,  meeting  a  sudden  crisis  that  for  the  first 
time  reaches  down  to  the  very  foundations  of  his 
being,  may  all  at  once  find  himself  crying,  de  pro- 
fundis, ' '  0  my  God ! ' '  To  say  with  Matthew  Arnold 
that  * '  religion  is  morality  touched  with  emotion ' '  is 
to  say  truth ;  but  the  saying  is  made  complete  if  we 
add  that  religion  is  morality  inspired  by  a  vision  of 
life  in  its  wholeness.  When  first  a  human  being,  af- 
flicted with  a  conscience  and  doubtful  of  the  right, 
yes,  doubtful  even  of  his  fealty  to  the  right,  and 
facing  the  moral  tragedy  of  his  spirit,  saved  himself 
from  moral  oblivion  by  seizing  boldly  such  ever- 
lasting verities  as  would  preserve  the  world  as  a 
moral  order,  then  was  religion  born.  In  this  prac- 
tical way  is  it  ever  born,  so  far  as  it  is  a  living 
faith.  Religion  is  not  at  all  a  product  of  speculation 
or  dream  or  sentiment;  it  may  be  false  from  crypt 

259 


to  spire,  but  it  is  the  definitely  practical  outcome  of 
man's  most  practical  needs. 

It  is  with  such  a  view  of  religion  as  the  heart  of 
moral  faith  that  Tennyson  presents  the  spiritual 
crisis  of  the  reflective  modern  in  the  Two  Voices. 
This  poem  is  a  debate  within  a  man's  soul  between 
moral  faith  and  modern  scientific  reason,  faith  in 
the  moral  order  and  the  reasons  that  marshal  them- 
selves against  it.  The  voice  of  doubt  cries, 

Thou  art  so  full  of  misery 
Were  it  not  better  not  to  be? 

Is  man  so  wonderfully  made  I  In  the  boundless  uni- 
verse, with  its  hundred  million  spheres,  there  are 
boundless  better  than  man.  Is  each  man  priceless, 
since  no  two  are  alike?  Well,  what  makes  us  differ 
is  only  our  differing  defects.  Shall  we  abide  on  earth 
to  view  truth's  progress?  But  the  goal  of  truth  is 
endless  and  the  passing  seasons,  yea,  the  millen- 
niums, make  little  difference  in  our  futile  search.  It 
is  better  not  to  seek  at  all  than  "seem  to  find  but 
still  to  seek."  The  youthful  dream  to  fight  the  false 
is  but  a  "stirring  of  the  blood." 

Thus  goes  the  debate  in  the  man  rs  soul.  How  does 
he  solve  his  moral  doubt?  He  has  found  some 
reasons  for  the  integrity  of  his  ideals  through 
change  and  death,  but  they  grant  him  no  absolute 
conviction.  "What  is  it  that  finally  brings  moral  con- 
fidence, the  faith  that  makes  life  possible  ?  Nothing 
but  the  ultimate  need  of  it,  which  proceeds  boldly 

260 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

to  transcend  all  inconclusive  theory.  Leaving  his 
vexed  and  futile  musings,  he  opens  his  casement  to 
the  sabbath  morn.  He  hears  the  church  bells  ring- 
ing. He  sees  men  and  women  following  their  call, 
among  them  one  who  walks  between  his  wife  and 
child.  And  thus,  facing  the  world  of  normal,  prac- 
tical experience,  a  voice  that  solves  his  problems 
speaks  within  him;  a  voice  that  says,  assuring  him, 
"I  see  the  end,  and  know  the  good";  a  voice  that 
"may  not  speak"  of  what  it  knows,  save  that  it  is 
* '  a  hidden  hope. ' '  Faith  in  the  moral  order  has  been 
begotten  of  moral  conflict.  The  great  verities  have 
been  reborn  of  the  moral  demands  of  the  spirit. 
This  is  religion. 

The  religious  way  of  obtaining  moral  confidence 
may  be  the  wrong  way  and  its  customary  beliefs 
erroneous.  But  however  that  may  be,  religion  is 
to  be  regarded  as  ultimately  the  direct  outcome  of 
a  moral  demand,  and  is  to  be  justified  fully  in  terms 
of  morals  and  only  in  terms  of  morals.  Historically, 
and  even  now,  religion  often  misses  this  truth.  But 
the  moment  that  it  forgets  that  its  main  service  is 
for  the  triumph  of  righteousness  and  not  for  the 
triumph  of  mere  doctrine,  that  moment  it  degener- 
ates into  formalism,  dogmatism,  and  fruitless- 
ness. 

The  close  relation  between  these  religious  verities 
on  the  one  hand  and  moral  confidence  on  the  other  is 
shown  by  the  marked  reciprocal  influences  of  religion 
and  morals  in  every  age.  The  purification  of  one 

261 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

means  the  purification  of  the  other.  Their  fortunes 
are  inextricably  related.  "Religion  is  a  conserva- 
tive agency,  yet  a  new  religion  often  has  a  power- 
ful influence  on  moral  development. '  *  *  The  heavens 
of  the  religions  are  reflections,  however  remote,  of 
the  ideals  of  life  held  by  those  who  believe  in  them. 
Contrast  the  heaven  of  Mohammedanism  with  that 
of  Christianity,  and  one  has  a  key  to  the  much 
deeper  contrast  between  their  moral  conceptions  of 
what  life  should  be.  The  attributes  of  God  that  any 
age  vitally  sanctions  are  expressions  of  the  attri- 
butes it  approves  as  great  in  its  men  and  women, 
The  gods  of  Greece  were  only  Greeks  of  more  titanic 
mold.  This  is  not  to  say  that  the  gods  are  man- 
made,  whatever  that  may  mean;  but  that  the  God 
of  a  religion  is  likely  to  be  the  supreme  expression 
of  the  moral  ideal  of  its  time  and  tends  profoundly 
to  influence  moral  ideals  in  turn.  Is  God  conceived 
to  be  the  only  ultimate  reality,  as  in  some  Oriental 
religions  f  Then,  morally,  one  will  find  that  the  in- 
dividual ceases  his  futile  strivings,  annihilates  his 
desires,  and  makes  his  moral  goal  the  losing  of  him- 
self in  the  infinite  sea  of  Being.  On  the  other  hand, 
is  God  thought  of  not  as  engulfing  us,  but  as  the 
one  perfect  self  in  a  democracy  of  souls  f  Then  the 
moral  ideal  of  the  individual  urges  him  not  to  lose 
himself,  but  to  fulfill  himself  to  the  utmost  The 
life  of  the  ancient  Hebrews  was  a  conspicuous  ex- 
ample of  the  close  interrelation  of  morals  and  re- 

•Demy  amd  Tufta,  EMa,  p^  8L 

262 


MOBAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  BELIGION 

Hgion.  The  Hebrew  covenant  was  primarily  a  re- 
ligions covenant;  but  it  had  an  immense  significance 
for  the  moral  development  of  the  Hebrew  people. 
The  central  conceptions  of  Christianity  are  con- 
sidered worth  while  in  terms  of  their  power  to  make 
for  righteousness.  Jesus  is  not  primarily  a  theo- 
logical dogma,  but  a  moral  ideal;  his  "kingdom"  is 
not  so  much  a  theory  to  be  believed  as  a  goal  to  be 
sought.  And  not  only  do  the  beliefs  of  a  religion 
mold  the  morals  of  its  period,  but  the  moral  ideals 
of  a  time  vitally  remold  its  religion. 

It  is  for  these  reasons  that,  in  the  last  resort,  faith 
in  a  moral  order,  even  that  of  democracy,  means  a 
religious  faith.  It  is  the  eventual  recognition  of  this 
yet  unappreciated  fact  that  is  to  transfigure  the  re- 
ligion of  this  Western  World.  World-old  is  the  sup- 
position that  one  may  be  moral  and  yet  not  be  re- 
ligious. Centuries  old  is  the  counter  plea  that  moral- 
ity is  religion.  Immanuel  Kant  showed  that  to  be 
good  and  to  be  religions  are  one  and  the  same  thing; 
and  this  was  the  sane  plea  of  our  own  Emerson's 
gospel  in  song,  in  essay,  and  in  life  until  he  was  laid 
to  rest  under  that  mountain  rock.  His  most  in- 
dignant objection  to  the  religion  of  his  day  was  that 
it  should  even  dream  of  divorcing  religion  from 
morality.  Slaveholding  to  him  was  immoral;  so  a 
slaveholding  religion  was  to  him  a  most  pitiable 
thing.  He  commended  Theodore  Parker  most  of  all 
for  insisting,  as  he  had  insisted,  that  the  very  es- 
sence of  Christianity  is  practical  morals.  "Mere 

263 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

morality,"  some  of  the  theologians  exclaimed;  but 
back  came  Emerson's  keen  thrust,  "Men  talk  of 
'mere  morality,'  which  is  much  as  if  one  should  say, 
'Poor  God,  with  nobody  to  help  Him/  "  He  ex- 
claims in  his  essay  on  Poetry :  ' '  The  moral  law  lies 
at  the  center  of  nature  and  radiates  to  the  circum- 
ference. It  is  the  pith  and  marrow  of  every  sub- 
stance, every  relation  and  every  process."  He  felt 
and  repeatedly  proclaimed  that  "the  sentiment  of 
virtue  is  the  essence  of  all  religion."4 


II 

If  the  religion  of  a  people  must  not  be  abstracted 
from  the  moral  order  for  which  it  exists,  but  must 
be  the  adequate  sanction  and  justification  of  that 
order,  an  important  question  confronts  us :  How  far 
can  one  honestly  say  that  the  religious  tendencies  of 
to-day  are  toward  a  rational  moral  faith, — toward 
democracy  and  the  verities  that  make  it  reasonably 
possible? 

It  is  an  immediately  significant  fact  that  the  re- 
ligious institution  itself  has  been  caught  between 
our  age's  contradictions  until  it  has  had  to  struggle 
for  its  very  life.  "We  have  spoken  of  the  current 
contradictions  of  reason  and  faith,  pragmatism  and 
idealism,  hedonism  and  sacrifice,  individualism  and 
social  responsibility.  "Well,  these  contradictions 

*Vid.  the  author,  The  Religion  of  Emerson,  Sewanee  Review, 
April,  1920. 

264 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

may  have  nothing  else  in  common,  but  they  all  agree 
in  attacking  current  religion,  each  in  its  own  way. 
Thus,  from  the  standpoint  of  reason,  religion  is  cur- 
rently criticized  as  irrational,  dogmatic,  antagon- 
istic to  science,  and,  at  any  rate,  remote  from  the 
other  intellectual  interests  of  mankind;  from  the 
standpoint  of  faith,  it  is  criticized  as  halting,  un- 
aggressive,  living  in  the  past,  and  lacking  the  large 
spirit  of  the  divine  adventure.  From  the  standpoint 
of  the  practical,  religion  tends  to  be  regarded  as 
useless,  a  mere  theology  and  creed,  with  no  vital 
and  practical  influence  upon  the  currents  of  pres- 
ent-day life;  from  the  standpoint  of  idealism,  non- 
progressive  and  reactionary.  By  the  hedonist, 
traditional  religion  is  looked  upon  as  enjoining 
meaningless  sacrifice,  mortification  of  the  flesh,  and 
as  denying  the  modern  conception  of  fullness  of  life ; 
by  the  spirit  of  sacrifice,  as  too  hedonistic,  saving 
the  soul  to  a  heaven  whose  inducement  is  happiness, 
a  second-rate  motive.  To  the  individualist,  the  cur- 
rent institution  of  religion  appears  tyrannical,  en- 
croaching upon  his  sacred  liberty  of  thought ;  to  the 
earnest  social  reformer  it  seems  indifferent  to  social 
issues  of  moral  import,  engrossed  in  the  selfish  busi- 
ness of  saving  individual  souls  and,  so  far  as  it  is 
social  at  all,  expressing  the  class  spirit,  exclusive,  a 
sort  of  social  club  with  no  well  planned  social  enter- 
prise or  appeal.  Caught  between  these  merciless 
contradictions  is  the  religious  institution  of  to-day 
until  it  is  made  to  appear  as  much  of  a  mass  of 

265 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

paradoxes  as  is  the  age  that  evaluates  it  and  finds 
its  own  faults  in  it! 

When  the  great  verities  are  challenged  thus 
through  their  chief  institution,  the  challenge  cannot 
be  ignored.  It  presents  a  problem  that  must  be 
solved,  else  the  great  verities  perish ;  or,  at  any  rate, 
the  great  organization  that  has  so  zealously  guarded 
them  will  fall  into  disrepute  among  intelligent  men. 
Religion  has  not  made  the  fatal  mistake  of  ignoring 
the  challenge ;  but  its  leaders  have  very  often  f aller 
into  an  error  almost  equally  disastrous, — that  of 
naively  regarding  these  contradictory  criticisms  as 
imperative  "demands  of  the  times, "  and  of  attempt- 
ing straightway  to  fulfill  them.  The  attempt  is  dis- 
astrous because  these  imperative  demands  are  in- 
deed contradictory  demands,  and  any  attempt  to 
meet  them  naively  breeds  still  more  contradiction. 
Further,  the  attempt  to  formulate  religion  according 
to  the  "demands  of  the  times,"  if  carried  out  too 
literally,  means  that  religion  loses  its  proper  func- 
tion ;  instead  of  being  the  vanguard  of  civilization,  it 
is  degraded  into  the  position  of  a  mere  camp  fol- 
lower. The  business  of  religion,  with  its  great 
verities,  is  not  to  adapt  itself  to  civilization  so  much 
as  to  transform  it.  But  so  far  as  religion  has  lately 
attempted  to  meet  the  world,  it  has  tended  to  over- 
adapt  itself  to  its  environment;  and,  alas,  the  at- 
tempt to  satisfy  all  its  critics  pleases  none.  For  in- 
stance, in  meeting  the  demand  for  religion's  rational 
revision  upon  a  scientific  basis,  men  have  come  peril- 

266 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

ously  near  to  losing  their  faith  in  the  eternal  values. 
In  attempting  to  be  practical,  religion  has  tended  to 
lose  its  spirituality.  In  recognizing  the  rights  of 
the  pleasures  of  this  life,  religion  has  tended  to  lose 
the  old  heroic  loyalties.  And  in  answering  the  cry 
for  individual  liberty,  religion  has  tended  to  elide 
the  imperatives  of  the  social  conscience.  Men  have 
met  these  contradictions  with  too  little  analysis 
of  what  they  mean;  the  result  is  more  contradic- 
tions, which  can  satisfy  no  one  of  the  standpoints  of 
criticism  because  the  attempt  has  been  made  un- 
critically to  satisfy  them  all.  The  problem  has  been 
falsely  conceived ;  so  the  solution  has  solved  nothing. 
The  challenges  of  our  time  must  be  met  in  a  new 
way,  not  only  by  religious  institutions,  but  by  all 
men  and  women  to  whom  the  moral  order  and  its 
insistent  verities  are  real.  The  task  is  not  to  meet 
these  conflicting  tendencies  of  our  age  severally 
and  separately,  but  to  analyze  them  and  solve  them 
by  an  interpretation  of  life  that  conciliates  them 
until  they  vanish  in  a  new  moral  vision.  Only  thus 
will  the  great  verities,  as  well  as  the  men  and  insti- 
tutions that  guard  them,  cease  to  be  apart  from  to- 
day's world  and  become  an  intimate  portion  of  its 
inner  life.  Our  previous  discussions  make  it  clear 
how  this  is  to  be  done  with  reference  to  the  conflict 
between  hedonism  and  sacrifice  as  well  as  to  that 
between  society  and  the  individual.  But  the  cur- 
rent conflict  between  reason  and  faith,  which  has 
been  one  of  our  central  problems,  is  the  one  that 

267 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

religion  must  now  especially  face  as  a  condition  of 
any  further  usefulness. 

Eeason  and  faith  have  been  warring  so  long  and 
so  bitterly  that  they  seem  to  be  inherently  irrecon- 
cilable. Their  interests  have  been  different,  their 
motives  at  variance,  and  their  methods  mutually 
contradictory.  Yet  a  logician,  unprejudiced  by  tra- 
dition, will  see  no  reason  why  they  should  be  ever- 
lastingly separated  and  at  conflict.  One's  reason 
and  faith  are  indeed  eternally  separated  on  the  con- 
dition that  one  's  reason  is  dogmatic,  ignorant  of  its 
nature  and  limits,  and  that  one's  faith  insists  upon 
being  blind.  And,  as  we  have  shown,  human  reason 
has  been  abundantly  dogmatic,  especially  within  the 
era  dominated  by  modern  science.  This  dogmatism, 
as  we  have  seen,  has  shown  itself  in  the  assumption 
that  reason  and  natural  science  are  synonymous; 
that  what  scientific  demonstration  cannot  prove  is 
thereby  outside  proof.  But  our  discussion  has  re- 
vealed the  mistake  of  this  assumption;  when  crit- 
ically challenged,  it  breaks  down.  Natural  science 
is  not  all  of  reason;  there  are  facts  other  than  the 
physical  facts  of  natural  science,  and  there  are  other 
methods  just  as  cogent  as  its  methods  of  gaining 
truth. 

And  if  scientific  reason  does  not  need  to  be  dog- 
matic, neither  need  faith  be  blind.  What  do  we 
mean  by  faith  in  the  last  analysis?  The  essence  of 
faith  is  confidence  in  and  loyalty  to  certain  ultimate 
truths  deemed  necessary  for  life.  So  the  chief  ob- 

268 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

jects  of  faith  are  what  are  required  to  make  a  moral 
order  possible,  namely,  the  moral  ideal,  Immortal- 
ity, God,  and  the  Freedom  of  the  Soul.  Now,  one's 
faith  in  these  verities  may  be  blind  in  one  of  two 
senses;  it  may  be  a  faith  that  contradicts  known 
facts,  or  it  may  be  a  faith  which,  while  not  contra- 
dicting any  known  facts,  possess  no  positive  rea- 
sons to  support  it.  Faith  concerns  itself  with 
"things  unseen ";  but  it  must  be  an  "evidence"  of 
things  unseen;  and  for  the  things  it  hopes  for,  it 
must  offer  some  substance ;  never  may  it  be  a  mere 
assumption  grasped  from  the  upper  air.  Already  it 
has  been  shown  how  faith  in  the  great  verities  may 
find  its  reasonable  evidences  without  contradicting 
a  single  fact  or  law  of  science.  Even  science  itself 
has  such  faiths,  the  loyalties  to  its  assumptions, 
hypotheses  in  harmony  with  every  scientific  fact  and 
law,  or  they  would  not  be  legitimate  hypotheses ;  yet 
assumptions  not  proved  by  the  facts  so  far  ascer- 
tained; pleading  as  their  only  proof  that  if  they 
were  not,  science  could  not  be.  This  is  faith,  but  it 
is  not  blind.  So  we  find  a  new  concept  that  is 
neither  dogmatic  reason  nor  blind  faith,  namely,  the 
concept  of  Rational  Faith, — a  faith  in  harmony  with 
reason,  and  interpretive  rather  than  destructive  of 
the  meaning  of  science.  Indeed,  we  can  go  further 
now.  Faith  merely  by  itself,  or  reason  merely  by 
itself  each  contradicts  not  only  the  other,  but  itself ! 
For  reason,  as  in  science,  needs  its  great  assump- 
tions of  faith  before  it  can  begin;  and  faith  needs 

269 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

its  reasons  before  it  has  a  right  to  speak.  The 
ancient  contradiction  is  solved,  and  each  side  of  the 
contradiction  is  immeasurably  enriched.  "With  such 
a  conception  regnant  within  it,  religion  is  no  longer 
caught  between  two  fires  that  destroy  it ;  it  no  longer 
sins  against  either  faith  or  reason,  for  it  answers  its 
critics  with  the  Rational  Faith  that  conciliates  both 
in  a  new  outlook  upon  life. 

HI 

And  now  to  revert  to  our  original  question :  How 
far  can  one  truly  say  that  the  religious  tendencies 
of  our  day  are  toward  faith  in  the  moral  order  as 
we  have  denned  it, — toward  that  democracy  which 
issues  at  last  in  the  great  verities,  and  without  which 
these  same  verities  are  practically  useless? 

Take  first  democracy's  doctrine  of  the  priceless 
worth  of  men.  The  religious  tendency  has  some- 
times seemed  utterly  out  of  sympathy  with  this 
characteristically  Occidental  view.  It  has  often  ap- 
peared to  submerge  the  individual  and  to  depreciate 
him.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  the  plain  tendency  of 
religion  to-day  is  toward  an  emphasis  upon  the  dig- 
nity and  worth  of  the  individual  human  soul,  whose 
value  is  regarded  as  such  that  it  would  not  profit 
a  man  to  exchange  it  for  the  whole  world.  This  new 
evaluation  of  the  individual  by  religion  is  shown  by 
the  increasingly  larger  freedom  and  responsibility 
accorded  him,  yes,  thrust  upon  him,  in  the  name  of 
religion  itself.  The  individual  no  longer  is  so  pas- 

270 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

sive  in  his  piety;  Ms  salvation  depends  more  upon 
himself  and  npon  his  own  deeds.  Thus,  the  pnlpit 
of  to-day  emphasizes  ethics  as  the  thing  to  be 
preached  in  the  name  of  religion,  rather  than  doc- 
trine and  ceremonial.  This  tendency  toward  an 
ethical  interpretation  of  religion,  which  emphasizes 
the  individual's  cooperative  part  in  his  own  salva- 
tion to  righteousness,  was  already  beginning  when 
this  generation  was  young.  Bryce,  scanning  our  re- 
ligious institutions  a  number  of  years  ago,  said:  "It 
is  hard  to  state  any  general  view  as  to  the  substance 
of  pulpit  teaching,  because  the  differences  between 
different  denominations  are  marked;  but  the  tend- 
ency has  been,  and  daily  grows  alike  among  Con- 
gregationalists,  Baptists,  Northern  Presbyterians, 
and  Episcopalians,  for  sermons  to  be  less  metaphys- 
ical and  less  markedly  doctrinal  than  formerly,  and 
to  become  either  expository,  or  else  of  practical  and 
hortatory  character. ' ' 5  Simile  Faguet,  writing  in 
Les  Annales  of  the  various  sects  in  America,  could 
say,  "They  may  be  innumerable,  but  they  are  all 
alike,"  meaning  by  this  that  while  their  doctrines 
vary  surprisingly,  their  public  teachings  agree  in 
being  predominantly  practical,  and  may  be  reduced 
almost  to  moral  teachings  and,  particularly,  moral 
actions.  The  very  fact  that  some  people  nowadays 
give  as  an  excuse  for  not  attending  or  joining  the 
chnrch,  the  alleged  uncertain  conduct  or  hypocrisy 
of  a  few  church  members,  is  a  significant  indication 

•James  Bryce,  The  American  Commonwealth,  Chap.  CXI. 

271 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

of  how  closely  true  religion  and  the  individual's  re- 
sponsibility for  his  own  life  are  associated  in  the 
public  mind. 

This  same  democratic  importance  of  the  individ- 
ual is  shown  by  the  increasing  freedom  accorded  him 
to  think  his  own  religious  thoughts.  Not  only  has 
the  old  intolerance  given  way  to  tolerance,  but  men 
are  actually  being  encouraged  to  think  out  their  own 
convictions  as  a  right,  not  as  something  to  be  mere- 
ly passively  or  grudgingly  permitted.  Of  late  there 
has  been  a  notable  decline  in  the  number  of  trials 
for  heresy,  due  to  this  same  new  note  of  freedom; 
and  the  growing  fellowship  among  religious  bodies, 
Protestant,  Catholic,  Jewish,  and  others,  means  like- 
wise a  partial  surrender  to  the  inevitability,  if  not 
the  desirability,  of  differences  in  a  nevertheless 
common  religious  aim.  This  fellowship  was  at  no 
time  more  marked  than  during  the  stress  of  the 
recent  war,  when  all  kinds  of  religions  learned  a 
new  tolerance  in  a  new  and  splendid  practical  co- 
operation. I  have  a  letter  before  me  from  a  French 
Catholic  priest  to  an  American  Protestant,  both  of 
whom  worked  together  close  to  death ;  a  letter  which 
asks  a  very  great  question  simply,  "In  this  war, 
should  we  not  consider  ourselves  as  brothers?"  and 
which  concludes  with  the  wish  for  the  "union  of  our 
prayers  in  the  heart  of  Jesus."  This  is  only  one  of 
the  whispers  of  a  world  of  voices  struggling  for 
one  utterance. 

But  this  tendency  toward  the  democratic  freedom 

272 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

of  the  individual  does  not  go  so  far  as  to  contradict 
democracy's  other  doctrine  of  the  rational  responsi- 
bility of  the  individual.  Freedom  is  not  to  be  the 
freedom  of  caprice.  The  abstract  freedom  that  in- 
sists upon  liberty  to  think  in  religious  matters,  and 
then  which  ingloriously  fails  to  think  at  all,  has  be- 
come too  notorious,  and  is  being  convicted  of  its 
emptiness.  Free  thought  means  not  only  freedom 
to  think,  but  the  thinking  itself;  and  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  individual  to  clarify  his  religion  in 
terms  of  democracy's  reason  is  evincing  itself  every- 
where in  the  institutions  of  religion.  Mere  dogmat- 
ism is  passing  away;  the  concept  of  faith  is  being 
purged  of  its  credulity;  religion  is  becoming  less 
remote  from  other  intellectual  pursuits  and  more 
in  sympathy  with  important  secular  movements; 
the  intellectual  training  of  the  religious  leader 
is  being  more  stressed  as  higher  education  has  as- 
sumed a  new  importance.  Religion  is  being  studied 
and  interpreted  in  terms  of  philosophy,  psychology, 
and  comparative  religion;  the  old  antagonism  to 
natural  science  is  being  replaced  by  a  new  adjust- 
ment to  its  verified  truths;  the  helplessness  before 
the  seeming  destructiveness  of  science  is  giving  way 
to  a  new  counter  challenge  to  science's  dogmatism, 
in  so  far  as  it  has  invaded  matters  on  which  it 
legitimately  has  nothing  to  say;  and  religion  is  be- 
ginning, through  its  more  educated  and  expert  lead- 
ers, to  assert  its  right  to  such  logical  methods  and 
conclusions  as  justify  themselves  and  adjust  them- 

273 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

selves  fully  to  the  accepted  truths  of  scientific  re- 
search. Although  not  yet  obtrusive,  this  is  one  of 
the  most  hopeful  tendencies  in  current  religious 
thought. 

Not  only  is  the  religious  tendency  strongly  toward 
these  democratic  doctrines  of  the  pricelessness  of 
men,  their  freedom,  and  their  rationality,  but  to- 
ward the  recognition  of  their  measureless  possibili- 
ties, another  doctrine  of  democracy.  There  was  a 
time  easily  within  remembrance  when  this  was  not 
so;  when  religion  still  persisted  in  expressing  itself 
chiefly  in  repressing  human  nature;  when  it  was 
negative  rather  than  positive;  retroactive  rather 
than  progressive.  But  now  the  overwhelming  tend- 
ency is  toward  fullness  of  life,  as  not  only  an  inv 
perative  of  democracy,  but  of  religion  itself.  This 
is  the  inevitable  result  of  the  character  of  our  mod- 
ern civilization;  but  especially  is  it  the  result,  first, 
of  the  new  emphasis  upon  the  character  of  Jesus,  so 
far  as  the  Christian  world  is  concerned, — upon 
Jesus  as  a  life  that  encourages  endless  self-realiza- 
tion ;  it  is  the  result,  second,  of  the  versatile  stimu- 
lus of  a  many-sided  life  such  as  modern  times  afford ; 
and,  third,  of  the  widespread  concept  of  evolution. 
How  this  concept  has  widened  men 's  vision,  even  un- 
awares, and  transformed  their  outlook  upon  life, — a 
life  that  has  gained  through  it  an  immeasurable  past 
and  an  immeasurable  future !  To  the  modern  man, 
accustomed  to  thinking  of  that  long  evolutionary 
process,  out  of  whose  dim  potentialities  the  life  of 

274 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

the  present  came  into  being,  there  seems  to  be  in 
this  very  "infinite  detail  of  preparation"  a  "guar- 
antee of  ineffable  achievement. ' ' 6  Even  religion 
has  begun  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  infinite  ad- 
venture. 

And,  further,  the  social  responsibilities  of  democ- 
racy are  now  assuming  an  all-absorbing  place  in  the 
religion  of  to-day's  world;  to  such  an  extent,  in- 
deed, that  religion  is  becoming  an  essential  factor  in 
the  socializing  of  democracy's  man.  In  spite  of 
the  class  spirit  still  lingering  in  some  religious  insti- 
tutions, in  spite  of  some  prevalent  notions  of  salva- 
tion in  terms  of  egoistic  hedonism,  the  main  cur- 
rents are  toward  a  recognition  of  social  issues  of 
moral  import  and  a  reaction  against  these  very 
things  that  have  kept  religion  from  concerning  it- 
self with  the  temporal  crises  that  justly  claimed  its 
ethical  regard.  The  books  on  the  social  mission  of 
religion  are  becoming  so  numerous  that  no  one  man 
could  read  them  all.  The  salvation  of  the-  individual 
soul  has  become  merged  with  the  salvation  of  so- 
ciety. The  cry  of  devout  men  is  becoming  surpris- 
ingly like  that  of  the  challenge  of  an  important  char- 
acter of  a  modern  novel,  "What  doth  it  profit  a  man 
if  he  save  his  own  soul  and  lose  the  whole  world, 
caring  nothing  for  its  agony,  making  no  struggle 
to  help  in  its  woe  and  grieving?"7 

"David  Starr  Jordan,  The  Religion  of  a  Sensible  American,  p.  25. 
T  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett,  The  De  Willoughby  Claim. 


275 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 
IV 

But  although  the  religious  tendencies  of  to-day 
are  strongly  toward  an  awareness  of  democracy  as 
a  moral  order,  there  is  yet  much  lacking  in  definite 
tendencies  toward  the  clarification  of  the  three  great 
verities  which  such  an  order  implies  and  demands, 
faith  in  which  it  is  religion's  very  especial  business 
to  inspire  and  sustain.  Bold  and  rational  sanctions 
for  these  truths  men  live  by  are  not  yet  sufficiently 
forthcoming.  Clear  thinking  concerning  God, 
Freedom,  and  Immortality,  which  is  now  demanded 
by  the  world's  newly  awakened  moral  and  religious 
yearnings,  has  not  yet  definitely  begun.  These  veri- 
ties are  still  too  vague,  too  unrelated  to  each  other, 
and  altogether  too  timid  for  the  valorous  moral 
faith  that  the  world  in  general  and  democracy  in 
particular  now  sorely  need.  For  instance,  even 
many  of  the  rationally  emancipated  still  find  them- 
selves in  Emerson's  strange  predicament  of  having 
on  their  hands  a  conception  of  God  that  will  in  no 
way  square  with  the  equally  important  insistence 
upon  human  freedom  and  responsibility.  In  one 
breath,  God  is  all  and  does  all,  and  men  are  merged 
in  the  * l  Oversoul, ' '  in  such  a  way  that ' '  our  painful 
labors  are  unnecessary  and  fruitless";  in  another 
breath  is  championed  the  kingliness  of  the  human 
spirit,  in  an  undefeatable  self-reliance  that  cries, 
"Stand  back!  this  infant  soul  must  learn  to  walk 
alone  I "  In  the  same  way,  immortality  is  yet  hardly 

276 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

more  than  a  splendid  dream,  practically  unrelated 
to  an  understood  moral  ideal  for  which  men  strive 
here  and  now.  And  both  scientific  and  religious  dog- 
matism have  obscured  the  problem  of  freedom  al- 
together, until  most  men  are  helpless  before  it. 

This  lack  of  intellectual  earnestness  with  the  great 
verities  is  due  to  the  want  of  insight  into  their  really 
practical  importance;  to  the  impression  that,  from 
a  rational  point  of  view,  science  has  made  us  more 
or  less  intellectually  helpless  to  justify  them;  and  to 
the  want  of  a  sufficient  number  of  intellectual  ex- 
perts in  religious  movements  who  are  able  to  chal- 
lenge unbelief  and  inconsistency  with  a  bold  and 
comprehensive  logic.  So  the  result  is  that  con- 
temporary religion  does  not  yet  furnish  an  adequate 
sanction  for  democracy's  ethical  ideals.  But  even 
here  the  encouraging  thing,  the  significant  thing  for 
the  future  of  both  religion  and  democracy,  is  that  the 
religious  institution  is  unquestionably  tending  to- 
ward democracy's  conception  of  a  moral  order, 
which,  in  turn,  implies  those  verities  not  now  suffi- 
ciently evident,  and  which  will  eventually  and  im- 
peratively demand  their  increasing  definition. 

The  natural  overemphasis  upon  the  physical 
sciences  and  their  tyranny  over  all  the  categories  of 
life  is  on  the  wane,  although  it  is  still  arrogant 
enough  and  dogmatic  enough  to  need  constant  re- 
futation by  a  logic  precise  and  merciless.  Many 
men,  in  the  name  of  science,  but  without  the  sanc- 
tion of  most  scientists,  still  insist  upon  distorting 

277 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

scientific  fact  and  law  from  their  place  as  servants 
of  life 's  ideals  to  dictators  of  what  these  ideals  shall 
be,  to  the  imminent  destruction  of  the  moral  order 
and  the  logic  of  its  own  outraged  facts.  But  suctf 
irrational  dogmatism  cannot  last  forever.  The  im- 
memorial empire  of  reason  will  not  be  downed  by 
the  revolt  of  one  of  its  provinces ;  for,  unlike  revolts 
within  nations,  the  over-assumptions  of  science  can- 
not win  by  their  sheer  force,  but  must  submit  to  the 
verdict  of  that  very  reason  which  science  itself  es- 
pouses. What  this  verdict  is  it  has  been  the  ven- 
ture of  this  book  to  show.  The  philosopher,  the 
poet,  and  the  prophet  are  only  momentarily  expelled 
from  civilization;  they  are  already  coming  again  to 
their  own,  purged  of  the  follies  that  made  the  usur- 
pations of  science  a  triumphant  fact.  The  serious 
and  capable  philosopher  never  found  a  world  more 
receptive  of  what  he  has  to  say  of  the  nature  of 
man  and  his  universe  than  is  to-day's  world  of  men, 
made  eager  for  ultimate  truths  by  the  perplexing 
human  problems  that  cry  for  some  solution  beyond 
merely  temporary  expedients.  The  poet,  who  lately 
felt  that  the  world  had  slipped  utterly  from  him, 
and  that  its  ear  was  no  longer  attuned  to  any  music 
but  the  music  of  the  hammer  and  forge,  now  finds 
a  world  listening  for  the  rhythm  of  life's  deeper 
meanings;  and  the  human  atmosphere  is  sentient 
with  the  songs  of  a  new  springtime  of  civilization. 
Literature  during  and  since  the  World  War  is  rife 
with  these  signs  of  a  brooding  thought  prophetic  of 

278 


MORAL  CONFIDENCE  AND  RELIGION 

larger  perspectives.  But  it  is  to  the  prophet  of  re- 
ligion that  men's  souls  are  looking  most;  for  it  is 
ever  through  religion  rather  than  through  philos- 
ophy and  poetry  that  the  average  man  finds  his  way 
to  the  truths  we  live  by.  The  predictions  of  the  de- 
cline of  the  religious  institution  are  even  more 
fatuous  than  the  confident  assertions  that  science 
had  permanently  crowded  poetry  and  philosophy  out 
of  civilization.  For  the  necessity  of  the  religious 
institution  is  based  upon  the  social  nature  of  the 
moral  adventure  and  of  religious  faith,  which  ever 
brings  men  together  for  the  serious  contempla- 
tion, discussion,  and  achievement  of  its  cooperative 
ideals.  Like  any  other  institution,  its  perennial 
necessity  is  founded  upon  the  perennially  social 
nature  of  democracy's  man.  Once  it  has  come  to 
a  thorough  self-consciousness  of  its  ethical  purpose 
and  of  the  specific  place  of  religion  in  that  purpose ; 
once  it  has  thoroughly  adjusted  itself  rationally  and 
whole-heartedly  to  the  secular  currents  of  life  that 
so  pitifully  require  the  great  verities,  it  will  dis- 
cover hosts  of  men,  who  now  think  of  themselves  as 
heretics  and  outcasts,  ready  to  join  hand  and  soul 
in  its  enterprises,  at  last  made  consonant  with 
democracy's  own. 


CHAPTER 

THE  EBNAISSANCE  OP  MOKAL  FAITH 

THAT  the  great  verities  will  find  their  ultimate 
triumph  in  present-day  civilization  depends  upon 
whether  the  modern  mind  is  capable  of  bridging  the 
artificial  chasm  it  has  created  everywhere  between 
what  it  calls  the  merely  "theoretical"  on  the  one 
hand  and  the  "practical"  on  the  other;  whether  it 
can  apprehend  thoroughly  that  any  great  truth  is  a 
truth  to  live  by,  or  it  is  not  truth  at  all;  that  all 
"practicalness"  but  gropes  and  stumbles  that  knows 
not  the  truth  that  clarifies.  The  prevalence  of  this 
artificial  separation  of  the  theoretical  and  the  prac- 
tical  is  obvious  enough.  The  aversion  of  the  con- 
temporary man  to  * '  mere  theory ' '  is  proverbial.  The 
current  test  of  a  man's  value  is  said  to  be  not  what 
he  "knows,"  but  what  he  can  "do."  This  is  also 
the  stubborn  test  of  the  worth  of  any  community. 
We  believe  in  education ;  but  we  say  that  it  must  be 
an  education  for  practical  life,  or  it  fails.  Thus, 
the  increased  place  of  the  applied  sciences  and  of 
vocational  training.  As  we  have  seen,  even  religion 
finds  that  it  must  submit  itself  to  the  same  practical 
test  if  it  is  to  make  itself  felt  in  the  world.  So,  in 
America,  discussions  of  theology  tend  more  and 

280 


THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH 

more  to  be  abandoned  for  discussions  concerning 
the  concrete  life.  It  has  already  appeared  that  this 
practicalness  of  American  life  tends  to  be  material- 
istic. Success  of  persons  as  well  as  of  communities 
tends  to  be  computed  upon  a  basis  of  material  out- 
put and  intake,  something  one  may  add  up  in  a 
column  of  figures.  So  that  the  contradiction  be- 
tween the  theoretical  and  the  practical  tends  to  be  a 
conflict  between  the  practical  man  and  the  idealist. 


The  practical  man  and  the  idealist, — 'how  they 
have  spurned  one  another  and  fought  one  another  in 
every  age!  It  sometimes  seems  that  the  most  sig- 
nificant difference  in  the  tempers  of  men  is  their 
natural  allegiance  to  one  side  of  this  contradiction 
or  the  other.  There  are  ever  the  dreamers  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  men  of  affairs  on  the  other.  Their 
creeds,  their  views  of  life,  seem  to  be  in  utter  con- 
flict, hopeless,  irreparable.  Yet  critically  seen,  the 
conflict  is  not  so  real  as  it  appears,  and  it  arises,  as 
do  many  wars,  from  a  misunderstanding. 

For  observe,  what  we  call  the  " practical"  con- 
cerns itself  with  what  is  actually  to  be  done  here  and 
now,  and  with  what  utilities  shall  be  mustered  to 
get  imperative  deeds  accomplished.  It  has  to  do 
with  the  great  problem  of  "  efficiency. "  It  is  know- 
ing what  to  do  next  and  how  to  do  it.  But  it  is 
stupid  to  suppose  that  one  can  know  what  to  do  next, 

281 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

and  next,  and  next,  unless  one  has  a  purpose  to  be 
achieved  by  all  these  deeds, — what  we  call  an  ideal. 
In  other  words,  to  have  a  rational  ideal  and  to  be 
practical  must  go  together.  The  reason  why  there 
has  been  such  a  notable  conflict  in  the  past  is  that 
some  so-called  idealists  have  persisted  in  proposing 
ideals  that  were  mere  dreams,  visions  not  sufficiently 
based  upon  the  possibilities  of  "human  nature  and 
of  things  as  they  are.  They  have  been  "  visionary. " 
Or,  idealists  have  often  been  content  to  proclaim 
ideals  without  sufficient  scrutiny  of  the  ways  and 
means  of  attaining  them.  Or,  they  have  been  so  lost 
in  the  rapt  contemplation  of  the  ideal  that  they 
have  unwisely  and  impossibly  demanded  its  full  defi- 
nition, yes,  even  its  full  realization  here  and  now, 
forgetting  that  all  sure  progress  is  a  procession  of 
slow  but  surely  advancing  compromises.  Such  men 
have  earned  the  name  of  radicals,  and  they  are  ever 
heroic ;  but  their  heroism  tends  to  be  more  spectacu- 
lar than  effective;  it  is  a  bravery  that  is  not  tem- 
pered by  the  deeper  bravery  of  patience,  the  hardest 
virtue  of  all. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  temper  of  the  idealist  has 
been  antagonized  by  the  pragmatisms  overweening 
insistence  upon  an  efficiency  that  lacks  a  sufficient 
insight  into  the  ends  that  efficiency  must  serve.  Ef- 
ficiency has  been  valued  as  a  thing  worth  something 
in  itself,  as  a  god  in  its  own  right.  Or,  the  prag- 
matist  has  made  his  goals  and  purposes  too  im- 
mediate, too  temporary;  they  have  not  reached  far 

282 


enough  into  the  future;  they  have  tended  to  be  of 
the  earth  earthy,  and  so  merely  prudential. 

But  these  mistakes  do  not  need  to  be  forever  com- 
mitted by  reasonable  men,  especially  when  the  prac- 
tical concerns  of  civilization  depend  upon  coming  to 
a  mutual  understanding.  The  moral  ideal  that  has 
gradually  revealed  itself  in  these  pages  does  not 
make  the  fatuous  error  of  trying  to  define  itself  in 
its  full  detail  all  at  once ;  knowledge  of  it  is  a  slow 
growth,  and  advance  toward  it  is  through  one  step 
at  a  time,  with  the  patience  of  faith  in  the  everlast- 
ing progress  that  it  demands.  It  does  not  im- 
patiently deny  this  world  and  the  present  deed,  but 
rather  interprets  them.  It  is  not  a  mere  dream 
or  vision  contrary  to  fact ;  it  is  an  immortal  purpose 
born  of  the  facts  themselves,  without  which  the  facts 
are  morally  meaningless.  The  pragmatist's  love  of 
efficiency  for  its  own  sake  and  his  too  temporary 
purposes  need  a  sound  idealism  for  their  correction. 
In  the  last  issue,  this  truth  comes  to  one  forcefully 
in  contemplating  the  type  of  man  that  the  race  most 
approves  in  its  saner  moments.  Take  two  men  of 
history,  one  of  whom  embodies  the  practical  temper, 
touched  with  merely  temporary  purposes,  and  the 
other  the  sanely  idealistic  temper, — as  Napoleon  and 
Jesus.  I  speak  of  the  latter  humanly,  not  theolog- 
ically, and  I  choose  these  men  because  they  are  so 
familiar.  One  sees  them  very  near  together  beneath 
the  proudest  dome  in  Paris ;  the  one  surrounded  by 
his  battle-flags;  the  other,  just  above,  beyond  the 

283 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

church  door,  upon  his  cross.  As  the  light  from  the 
stained  window  fades,  and  you  stand  there  in  the 
twilight,  a  question  knocks  at  the  door  of  your  soul, 
Which,  in  the  long  stretch  of  centuries  by  which  all 
things  and  all  men  are  judged,  was  the  more  prac- 
tically efficient,  this  Corsican  or  this  Nazarene? 
Everybody  well  knows.  The  empire  of  the  one  fell 
to  chaos  long  ago;  the  democracy  of  the  other  is 
growing  larger  day  by  day.  Over  the  tomb  of  the 
Corsican  the  traveler  bends  his  head  in  melancholy 
meditation ;  up,  up  toward  the  life  of  the  Nazarene 
the  millions  struggle  with  glad  faces  through  the 
years. 

The  chief  difference  between  the  great  men  and 
the  small  men,  the  great  civilizations  and  the  small 
civilizations,  is  that  the  former  will  tolerate  no 
hiatus  between  convinced  thought  and  effective  deed. 
Theirs  is  a  Practical  Idealism  that  is  -neither  the 
traditional,  shortsighted  practicalness,  nor  the  tra- 
ditional futile  dreaming;  a  Practical  Idealism  in 
harmony  with  the  practical,  but  interpreting  and 
soberly  testing  its  real  efficiency.  Such  men  and 
civilizations  live  the  truth  they  find,  make  real  their 
ideals,  and  make  ideal  all  their  realities.  We  must 
spread  the  conviction  abroad  in  some  way  until  it 
becomes  a  new  awakening,  a  second  nature  grafted 
upon  modern  life,  that  no  contradiction  in  life  can 
be  solved  in  deed  without  solving  it  in  thought  first ; 
and  that  even  this  is  futile  unless  men  have  attained 
the  courage  to  live  what  they  think  and  to  carry  it 

284 


THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH 

valiantly  into  their  practical  civilization.  It  is  this 
sequestering  of  thought  away  from  the  world  of 
action  that  has  allowed  the  practical  contradictions 
of  our  time  to  come  to  such  a  formidable  crisis.  It 
may  be  that  this  very  crisis,  perforce,  will  lead  men 
to  a  new  age  of  reason;  an  age  in  which  the  great 
verities  will  no  longer  be  spurned  or  forgotten,  but 
will  assume  their  reasonable  place  in  living.  There 
have  been  times,  now  long  past,  when  the  great  veri- 
ties touched  life  very  closely  and  favorably;  when 
literature,  and  painting,  and  sculpture,  and  archi- 
tecture, and  music,  and  the  institutions  of  society  in 
general  reflected  them  and  by  them  were  made  great. 
At  such  times,  the  great  verities  may  have  been  mis- 
conceived, but  nevertheless  they  lived.  To-day,  a 
man  may  be  acquainted  with  all  these  great  human 
enterprises  and  still  not  find  in  them  much  that 
means  a  pervading  faith  in  a  moral  order,  let  alone 
a  religious  order.  These  latter  concerns  have  come 
to  be  regarded  as  things  apart.  If  a  man  has  time 
for  them,  very  well,  let  him  indulge  in  them  as  a 
something  of  spiritual  luxury  beyond  the  life  he 
daily  lives  in  the  forum  and  the  market.  The  time 
has  come  when  our  loyalties  must  be  reversed  in 
the  name  of  logic  and  good  sense.  After  all,  there 
is  only  one  loyalty  for  reasonable  men  who  see 
things  in  a  just  perspective ;  a  loyalty  above  family, 
business,  church,  and  state,  because  it  includes  all 
these,  intensifies  fealty  to  all  these,  and  transfigures 
every  one  of  these. 

285 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

If  this  practical  meaning  of  ultimate  truths  is 
once  apprehended  by  our  age,  the  renaissance  of  its 
moral  faith  in  them  will  be  assured.  And  the  most 
certain  prophesy  of  any  such  renaissance  of  a  peo- 
ple is  the  measure  in  which  its  practical  life  is 
already  touched  with  a  generous  idealism;  for  a 
great  idealism  ever  calls  for  something  more, — a 
faith  in  the  truths  that  justify  it. 

Herein  lies  the  American  hope.  For  in  spite  of 
her  practical  mood,  America  is  already  a  nation  of 
idealists.  True,  there  are  many  who  deny  this; 
yet,  to  any  one  who  knows  the  temper  of  the  Ameri- 
can people,  the  accusation  that  they  are  funda- 
mentally materialistic  and  absorbed  in  the  one  busi- 
ness of  amassing  dollars  is  as  stupidly  silly  as  it  is 
familiar.  Of  course  we  are  busy  developing  the 
material  resources  of  a  new  continent,  we  are  work- 
ing with  matter,  molding  it  into  cities  and  bridges 
and  railroads  and  factories ;  but  working  with  mat- 
ter does  not  of  itself  make  one  a  materialist,  any 
more  than  working  with  oils  and  canvas  makes  an 
artist  any  less  a  follower  after  the  gleam.  The 
question  is  not  whether  one  is  busied  with  matter; 
it  is  whether  one  is  making  anything  worth  while 
of  it.  Of  matter  of  the  crassest  Michelangelo  builds 
St.  Peter's.  So,  I  think,  it  is  with  American  mate- 
rialism, in  spite  of  some  undeniable  tendencies  to  the 
contrary.  Van  Dyke  characterizes  the  American 
people  felicitously  when  he  speaks  of  them  as  "a 
people  of  idealists  engaged  in  a  great  practical 

286 


THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH 

task."  *  Butler  points  out  that  the  entire  history  of 
the  country  testifies  to  the  idealism  of  the  American 
people;  that  the  first  settling  of  America  was  an 
adventure  of  idealists;  that  the  Civil  War  was  a 
struggle  of  idealists  who  were  willing  to  die  for 
loyalty  to  national  ideals;  that  the  insistence  upon 
education  and  the  faith  in  the  power  of  knowledge 
are  the  insistence  and  faith  of  idealists.2  Royce, 
contending  for  the  same  truth,  adds  as  further  evi- 
dence of  our  idealism  "the  rich  differentiation  of 
our  national  religious  life,"  our  notable  civic  pride, 
and  our  welcome  to  new  doctrines,  especially  such 
as  appeal  to  idealism  through  an  inspiring  creed. 
He  even  comments  upon  the  excesses  of  our  ideal- 
ism !3  Cole  thinks  that  idealism  is  the  chief  Ameri- 
can trait ;  and,  answering  the  charge  that  Americans 
are  absorbed  in  materialistic  business,  remarks  that 
"the  real  thing  in  any  life  is  not  what  we  get  and 
what  we  show  and  what  we  do,  but  it  is  what  we 
think  and  what  we  feel  and  what  we  aspire  to,"  and 
contends  that  the  American  idealism  is  to  be  found 
even  in  the  absorption  in  those  business  interests 
which  seem  to  belie  it.  For  the  joy  which  the  Amer- 
ican of  an  increasingly  prevalent  sort  finds  in  his 
business  "comes  chiefly  from  the  sense  of  power, 
from  the  sense  of  victory  in  struggle,  from  the 
human  meaning  of  the  thing  accomplished.  With 

1  Henry  van  Dyke,  T~he  Spirit  of  America,  p.  xv. 
3  Nicholas  Murray  Butler,  The  American  As  He  Is,  pp.  41,  68. 
•Josiah  Royce,  Sace  Questions  and  Other  American  Problems,  pp. 
112-115. 

287 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

the  business  man  of  this  type,  ambition  is  directed 
chiefly  toward  a  recognition  in  himself  of  the  human 
qualities  which  give  him  attainment — rather  than 
toward  tangible  things  desirable  for  themselves. "  4 
Nay,  democracy  is  nothing  material,  and  it  cannot 
be  measured  in  dollars  and  cents.  It  does  not  even 
exist  yet!  It  is  an  ideal;  but  for  this  ideal  Ameri- 
cans have  been  willing  to  die.  If  you  want  to  see 
idealism,  go  to  some  small  western  city  recently 
builded.  A  street  of  two  score  ramshackle  buildings 
may  be  all  there  is;  but  listen  to  the  glowing  ac- 
count of  what  this  "city"  will  some  day  be!  The 
inhabitants  may  be  but  a  few  hundred  now;  but 
yonder  will  be  the  courthouse,  yonder  the  great  rail- 
way terminal,  and  the  marts  of  trade  have  their  ave- 
nues all  laid  out.  For  the  old  men  see  visions  and 
the  young  men  dream  dreams. 

II 

Paradoxically  enough,  this  very  idealism  has  be- 
come the  source  of  a  new  crisis  for  American 
democracy.  For,  being  a  serious  idealism,  it  has 
taken  the  inevitable  form  of  an  active  criticism  of 
prevailing  institutions  in  so  far  as  they  contravene 
and  baffle  it.  The  universal  talk  of  "social  recon- 
struction" is  a  symptom  of  something  deeper  than 
the  effects  of  war.  Through  his  idealism  it  is  that 
the  American  is  gradually  finding  himself  surprised 

*  William  Morse  Cole,  The  American  Hope,  pp.  6,  7. 

288 


THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH 

into  a  far-reaching  social  rebellion.  For  the  funda- 
mental thing  in  any  civilization,  the  disturbing 
thing,  that  which  unlocks  most  of  its  secrets  of  un- 
rest and  conflict,  is  to  be  found  in  what  the  average 
individual  wants,  what  kind  of  life  he  demands  to 
live,  what  sort  of  self  he  thinks  he  is  entitled  to  be- 
come. This  is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  the 
fundamental  thing  in  any  civilization  is  its  ethical 
ideal.  For  this  and  through  this  arises  all  social 
organization.  Social  institutions  are  functions  of 
human  desires  objectified.  All  of  them,  political, 
economic,  educational,  religious,  exist  because  men 
think  that  through  them  they  can  better  get  their 
wants  fulfilled.  So  that,  in  a  civilization  under  dem- 
ocratic control,  social  institutions  ought  to  be  reflec- 
tions of  the  ideals  of  life  possessed  by  the  people, 
indications  of  the  sorts  of  selves  the  people  want  to 
become,  the  lives  they  want  to  live. 

But  once  formed,  social  institutions  are  notori- 
ously conservative.  Conditions  sometimes  arise  in 
which  the  average  man  grows  beyond  them.  One 
comes  upon  an  age  of  social  rebellion  whenever  the 
individual  has  come  to  want  a  life  and  imperatively 
to  demand  a  life  beyond  the  power  of  his  social  insti- 
tutions to  grant  j  when  society  cannot  let  him  live 
the  life  he  wants  to  live,  be  the  self  he  wants  to 
be. 

Now,  this  is  precisely  the  condition  in  America  to- 
day; the  ideals  of  men  have  outreached  the  democ- 
racy they  have  thus  far  been  able  to  build.  For 

289 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

wonderful  indeed — miraculous — would  be  the  social 
organization  that  could  keep  pace  with  such  an  in- 
dividual awareness  as  America  has  created  and  is 
creating.  Social  institutions  cannot  break  the  bonds 
of  tradition  in  a  day.  They  were  first  created  for 
the  privileged  few;  they  are  now  suddenly  to  fulfill 
without  favor  the  demands  of  the  ultimate  many. 
They  arose  slowly  and  painfully  upon  foundations 
laid  deep  in  an  ancient  order;  and,  abruptly,  they 
must  transform  themselves  to  an  ideal  born  of  a 
new  and  universal  enlightenment  which,  through  an 
international  crisis,  has  witnessed  just  enough  of 
social  upheaval  and  of  adaptation  to  emergency  to 
lessen  any  undue  respect  for  the  divine  rights  of 
institutions.  Thus,  the  conditions  of  a  widespread 
maladjustment  are  fulfilled.  The  social  order  can- 
not answer  the  individual's  newly  conceived  needs; 
and  yet  the  social  order  is  newly  viewed  as  highly 
capable  of  even  sudden  change.  It  is  not  that  social 
institutions  are  any  worse  than  they  were.  But  the 
individual  has  recently  changed  so  much  faster  than 
they  could  be  remolded  to  his  heart's  desire  that 
they  are  far  worse  relatively,  and  seem  worse  abso- 
lutely. 

Thus,  economic  and  industrial  justice  have  grown 
apace;  but  the  problems  of  justice  have  been  acute 
public  matters  of  late,  and  the  sense  of  justice  has 
grown  faster.  So,  of  course,  there  is  economic  re- 
bellion. But  it  is  economic  rebellion  only  as  an  ex- 
pression of  the  individual's  newly  found  ideal  of 

290 


what  a  self  larger  than  the  merely  economic  self 
should  be  allowed  to  become. 

So  with  education.  The  educational  institution 
has  made  enormous  progress.  Even  the  World  War 
aided  it  immensely  with  a  new  practical  idealism. 
Before  this,  its  methods  had  become  more  scientific, 
its  curricula  infinitely  various,  its  advantages  easy 
for  the  multitude.  But  recently  intellectual  needs, 
demands  for  expert  efficiency,  have  grown  still 
faster.  So  we  have  a  distrust  of  the  whole  modern 
educational  system,  including  higher  education, 
which  voices  itself  in  such  widespread  criticism  that 
one  might  easily  be  led  to  suppose  that  education  is 
in  its  dotage.  But  this  rebellion  in  education  is  only 
one  more  expression  of  the  individual's  awakening 
to  a  new  ideal  of  life. 

So,  too,  with  the  region  of  the  beautiful.  Our  sur- 
roundings have  become  more  tolerable,  our  cities  are 
being  planned  more  and  more  from  the  standpoint 
of  esthetic  interests,  the  ugly  is  being  gradually 
eliminated  from  the  market  and  the  home ;  but  men's 
sensibilities  have  been  refined  so  much  more  rapidly, 
their  tastes  have  been  cultivated  so  immeasurably 
faster  (to  some  extent  through  the  new  domination 
of  French  ideals),  that  there  is  even  an  esthetic  re- 
bellion. But  this  unrest,  like  that  in  economics  and 
politics  and  education,  is  only  one  small  part  of  the 
recent  man 's  demand  that  life  assume  for  him  a  new 
abundance. 

So  also  with  the  church.  Religion  has  broken 

291 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

from  its  long  conservatism;  for  some  time,  it  has 
been  reconstructing  its  doctrines  in  terms  of  new 
sciences  and  broader  aspirations;  it  has  become 
more  tolerant,  more  ethical,  more  efficient.  But  it 
cannot  keep  pace  with  the  demands  of  the  man  of 
modern  culture,  just  come  through  an  unpre- 
cedented trial  of  faith  and  reason,  who  may  some- 
times seek  among  the  churches  in  vain  for  what  his 
soul  needs ;  whose  reason  is  still  unanswered  in  its 
call  for  those  verities  without  which  he  cannot  at- 
tune his  life  aright  to  the  aspirations  he  has  learned 
to  esteem  newly  sacred.  And  the  intensely  practical 
needs  of  those  beneath  the  cultural  level  are  but 
vaguely  and  indecisively  met  by  religious  dogmas 
that  cannot  cope  as  successfully  as  they  yet  will 
with  new  social  problems  which,  without  an  effective 
religious  faith,  cannot  be  permanently  solved.  So 
there  is  religious  rebellion.  But,  again,  it  is  no 
isolated  phenomenon.  It  is  just  another  token  that 
the  recent  American  has  seen  a  new  vision  of  a 
breadth  and  depth  of  living  which  his  social  insti- 
tutions have  not  yet  been  fashioned  to  fulfill. 

This  social  rebellion,  however  idealistically 
motived,  might  easily  degenerate  into  sheer  individ- 
ualism and  anarchy,  were  it  not  for  the  illuminating 
fact  that  American  idealism  happens  to  include  a 
democratic  vision  of  the  common  welfare.  While 
the  individual  American  has  the  liberty  to  cherish 
any  ideals  that  he  pleases,  the  American  doctrine  of 
liberty  is  not  that  he  may  do  as  he  pleases.  It  is  a 

292 


THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH 

higher  liberty  than  that ;  it  is  a  liberty  that  harmon- 
izes with  the  social  good,  that  includes  the  social 
good  in  all  its  deeds.  Otherwise,  it  is  mere  li- 
cense. 

This  freedom  to  seek  the  social  good,  not  by  coer- 
cion, but  through  one's  own  reason,  is  the  only  kind 
of  freedom  that  democracy's  man  desires.  It  is  ex- 
pressed in  the  two  freedoms  most  prized  by  the 
American  people ;  freedom  of  speech  and  freedom  of 
the  ballot.  Through  freedom  of  speech,  every  man 
has  the  chance  to  impress  his  own  reason  upon  the 
rest ;  and,  through  discussion  of  the  rational  convic- 
tions of  all,  to  come  to  more  clarified  convictions  of 
his  own,  thus  aiding  the  social  reason  to  defensible 
decisions.  Through  the  freedom  of  the  franchise, 
he  is  given  the  further  and  decisive  means  by  which 
his  individual  conviction  can  be  uttered  definitely 
and  be  made  effective. 

Thus,  American  idealism  is  saved  from  the  empty 
freedom  of  caprice  in  two  ways.  It  is  freely  sub- 
jected to  social  revision  and  its  utterances  pretend 
to  be  reasonable.  Reason  is,  in  truth,  the  only 
basis  of  social  discussion,  as  it  is  of  the  individual's 
right  to  utter  convictions  at  all.  Freedom,  in  the 
American  sense,  is  rational  and  social.  Of  what- 
ever else  I  am  independent,  I  am  not  independent  of 
the  social  reason.  Nor  do  I  want  to  be;  so  my 
very  subjection  is  the  supreme  expression  of  my 
freedom. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  social  rebellion  may  well 

293 


bring  with  it  the  beginnings  of  its  own  solution  if 
it  arises,  as  it  does  in  America,  through  the  ethical 
idealism  of  men.  In  any  era  of  social  progress,  the 
individual  is  ahead  of  his  social  institutions;  he 
must  be  if  they  are  to  advance  at  all;  for  only  in 
response  to  his  demands  for  better  things  do  they 
develop.  Evolution  itself,  by  the  way,  may  be  in- 
terpreted as  a  history  of  constructive  rebellions.  It 
presupposes  not  only  the  will  to  live,  but,  as  we 
have  seen,  an  upward  and  selective  will  to  progress, 
an  inherent  and  vital  dissatisfaction  with  the  malad- 
justment between  the  individual  and  his  environ- 
ment, together  with  a  tendency  to  overturn  adjust- 
ments, however  momentarily  perfect,  by  the  develop- 
ment of  new  wants. 

But  these  general  reasons  are  not  the  only  or  the 
chief  reasons  why  idealism  in  America  is  a  portent 
of  good,  not  of  evil.  First,  because  of  the  social 
dependence  of  the  modern  individual,  his  rebellion 
will  be  the  more  speedily  translated  into  social  re- 
form. Second,  because  democracy  at  length  recog- 
nizes this  dependence  as  good,  resulting  in  a  deeper 
freedom  than  the  individual  has  ever  known — the 
deeper  freedom  of  social  self-realization — we  in 
America  tend  to  escape  a  danger  that  has  belonged 
to  all  great  social  rebellions  in  the  past;  the  danger 
that  the  individual  will  venture  to  obtain  "his  own" 
by  annulling  society  and  reducing  it  to  chaos.  True, 
lawlessness  among  the  American  people  has  reached 
an  alarming  degree.  And  this  is  encouraged  by 

294 


THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH 

the  incredible  laxity  of  the  machinery  of  social 
justice.  The  tendencies  to  annul  society  are  here 
in  strength.  They  are  part  of  a  world-movement, 
which,  in  Eurpoe,  has  meant  the  overthrow  of  estab- 
lished orders.  But  such  an  outcome  is  simply  im- 
possible in  America.  Here  the  individual  has  be- 
come too  complexly  social  on  a  universal  scale;  his 
institutions  are  too  strong,  because  they  are  not 
outside  him,  but  within  him.  So  his  only  salvation 
is  reformation  unceasing,  never  dissolution.  Again, 
the  danger  of  social  dissolution  in  America  is  min- 
imized because  the  power  of  transformation  is  in 
the  people's  hands.  Public  opinion,  when  once  it 
has  attained  decisive  convictions,  is  almost  imme- 
diately effective ;  first,  through  its  many  organs  of 
easy  dissemination;  and,  second,  through  the  un- 
trammeled  franchise.  This  public  opinion  was  never 
more  efficient  in  dictating  social  reforms,  never  more 
rational,  and  never  before  so  possessed  with  the 
facilities  for  becoming  universal,  when  its  causes 
are  worthy. 

Thus,  in  America  at  least,  with  the  dangers  of 
social  rebellion  minimized  and  with  its  ideals  surer 
of  sane  effect,  the  individual  who  finds  himself  be- 
yond the  social  organization  is  society's  greatest 
asset,  provided  always  that  he  is  not  a  traitor 
to  democracy.  His  idealism  is  not  a  menace, 
but  the  only  certain  guarantee  of  democracy's 
triumph. 

295 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

m 

Bnt  just  here  we  come  upon  a  difficulty.  Just 
what  is  this  new  and  larger  ideal  of  life  which  the 
individual  has  acquired  and  which  makes  him  so 
rebellious  with  the  social  organization  as  it  is! 

As  yet,  Americans  are  not  morally  certain.  It  is 
this  very  uncertainty  about  moral  ideals,  an  un- 
certainty born  of  moral  conflict  and  skepticism,  that 
has  been  our  problem  from  the  first;  issuing  at 
last  in  the  attempt  to  construct  a  moral  order  and 
to  make  plain  the  truths  it  lives  by.  However,  we 
have  now  come  upon  the  redeeming  fact  that  this 
uncertainty  is  not  builded  entirely  upon  the  skepti- 
cism of  mere  indifference,  but  is  an  uncertainty  that 
possesses  all  the  hope  of  an  idealism  that  seeks  and, 
seeking,  bespeaks  the  temper,  if  not  yet  the  sub- 
stance, of  undaunted  faith.  We  Americans  live  in  a 
future  that  we  cannot  analyze  and  yet  that  we  con- 
fidently predict.  The  present  may  be  as  dark  as 
you  please,  but  we  have  faith  that  no  crisis  can  de- 
feat us  and  that  in  the  end  all  will  be  well.  As 
for  democracy,  the  facts  may  be  of  as  evil  portent 
as  you  will ;  but  it  is  the  color  of  treason  to  doubt  for 
one  moment  that  democracy  will  triumph.  There  is 
no  place  in  all  America's  future  for  Macaulay's  New 
Zealander  lamenting  over  a  fallen  civilization. 
America  has  no  use  for  the  "grouch."  The  pessi- 
mist is  the  failure.  Our  faith  in  our  destinies  is  so 
incurable  that  even  our  novels  and  plays  must  have  a 

296 


happy  ending.  The  sunny  side  of  life  is  the  true 
side.  Tragedy  is  abnormal.  Faith's  robust  laugh- 
ter is  heard  from  Maine  to  California.  The  charac- 
teristic lack  among  Americans  of  speculative  inter- 
est in  ultimate  philosophical  questions  does  not  arise 
so  much  from  a  reasoned  skepticism  as  from  an  op- 
timistic confidence  that,  whatever  the  reality  of 
things  may  seem,  all  is  or  will  be  right  with  the 
world.  This  confidence  even  becomes  a  sort  of  sub- 
lime and  simple  religion,  the  native  religion  of  the 
American  mind. 

•So  it  happens  that  American  idealism,  although 
still  undefined,  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  means 
progress  toward  moral  awareness  and  moral  con- 
fidence; how,  one  might  show  through  analyzing 
American  ideals  as  they  are  actually  emerging  in 
our  various  social  institutions.  It  is  progress  be- 
cause, wanting  the  undefined,  our  want  is  serious, 
so  that  we  are  discontented  with  such  vagueness; 
and  the  only  way  out  of  such  pernicious  vagueness 
is  a  wholesome  discontent  with  it.  Out  of  such 
idealism,  if  it  is  serious  enough,  persistent  enough, 
constructive  enough,  will  come  a  clearer  definition 
of  the  social  ideal;  an  ideal  worthier  than  America 
has  before  known,  since  it  must  satisfy  the  critical 
reason  that  has  cast  aside  the  old  ideals  as  nar- 
row, insufficient,  undemocratic,  and  unjust  to  the 
possibilities  of  human  nature.  This  deeper  ideal- 
ism, then,  which  is  at  the  heart  of  all  our  institu- 
tional distrust,  is  the  unrest  of  American  democracy 

297 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

defining  itself !  This  defining  is  of  itself  progress ; 
but  when  the  definition  is  achieved,  then  what  prog- 
ress !  America,  will  be  truly  born  for  the  first  time ; 
for  nations,  as  men,  are  defined  and  found  worthy  in 
terms  of  the  worth  of  their  purposes  and  of  their 
conscious  loyalty  to  them. 

We  are  at  the  beginning  of  this  ethical  recon- 
struction now.  Its  failure  would  mean  the  failure 
of  America  for  a  long  time,  perhaps  for  always. 
For,  due  to  the  upheavals  of  a  great  world-crisis, 
American  institutional  ideals  are  plastic  now  as 
never  before,  and  as  they  may  never  be  again.  The 
old  institutional  habits  may  easily  regain  their 
strength  and  challenge  and  destroy  our  newer 
dreams  unless  these  are  speedily  formulated  and 
made  efficient.  One  is  encouraged  by  the  fact  that 
the  deeper  and  less  obvious  trends  of  American  life 
are  settling  slowly  but  surely  toward  democratic 
deed  and  democratic  awareness,  especially  the 
latter.  In  spite  of  undemocratic  tendencies ;  in  spite 
of  loud  and  clamorous  movements  plainly  destruc- 
tive of  democracy;  in  spite  of  the  defect,  which  must 
soon  be  remedied,  that  American  institutions  are 
too  abstracted  from  one  another  and  therefore  con- 
flicting in  their  aims,  and  not  welded  together  by 
a  sufficiently  defined  and  common  purpose,  they 
were  never  so  self-conscious  as  now.  The  dawn  of 
this  self-consciousness  is  amply  attested  by  con- 
temporary American  literature,  as  well  as  by  the 
large  currents  of  our  life  as  seen  in  politics,  eco- 

298 


THE  RENAISSANCE  OF  MORAL  FAITH 

nomics,  and  society,  yes,  in  education  and  religion, 
which  last  we  have  seen  to  be  emphatically  setting 
toward  a  new  awareness  and  achievement  of  the 
moral  order  for  which  America  stands.  Once  the 
national  consciousness  was  so  negligible  that  Amer- 
icans had  to  rely  upon  foreign  writers  for  the  best 
appreciations  of  their  country.  Within  a  decade 
has  arisen  a  literature  on  America  by  Americans 
which  signifies  a  self-criticism  not  even  distantly  ap- 
proached by  any  other  country  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  Every  American  institution  shares  in  this 
self-discovery  and  appraisement;  an  appraisement 
often  merciless,  on  the  whole  candid,  and  almost  al- 
ways with  the  courage  of  the  national  optimism. 
This  self-criticism  may  well  herald  the  time  when 
our  various  and  now  conflicting  institutions  shall 
become  functions  of  a  well-understood  national 
character,  unified  and  pervaded  by  the  one  ultimate 
and  sublating  vision  of  the  moral  order  and  that 
type  of  American  which  is  its  hope. 

Thus  it  is  that  American  idealism,  because  of  its 
social  vision,  and  in  spite  of  its  social  impatience; 
in  spite,  too,  of  its  yet  indefinite  character  and  be- 
cause of  its  optimistic  courage,  is  an  earnest  of  the 
veritable  renaissance  of  moral  faith.  Out  of  its 
loyalties  will  grow  the  reasoned  apprehension  of 
the  meaning  of  the  democracy  it  seeks  and  of  the 
truths  it  needs.  One  cannot  continually  argue  and 
fight  and  suffer  and  triumph  in  the  name  of  such 
great  ideas  as  man's  equality,  his  freedom,  his  in- 

299  ' 


THE  TRUTHS  WE  LIVE  BY 

finite  value,  his  measureless  possibilities,  his  social 
and  rational  imperatives,  without  finding  himself  at 
length  led,  by  the  very  exigencies  of  his  faith,  to 
the  portals  of  those  larger  truths  in  which  these 
others  rest,  to  the  spiritual  democracy  in  which  all 
lesser  democracies  live  and  triumph, — without  faith 
in  which  there  is  no  faith  worth  naming. 


INDEX 


Addison,  on  immortality,  152. 

American  idealism,  described, 
286-288;  dangers  of,  288- 
292;  as  social  and  rational, 
292-295 ;  becoming  more  defi- 
nite, 296-300. 

Anselm,  his  proof  of  God,  186. 

Aristotle,  15,  138. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  on  religion, 
258;  quoted,  39,  161. 

Asceticism,  as  a  moral  stand- 
ard, 5-8;  conciliated  with 
hedonism,  33-37. 

Assumptions  of  science,  96,  97, 
269;  proof  of,  100-104; 
modification  of,  222-228. 

Bacon,  Francis,  on  death,  153. 

Barbusse,  Henri,  quoted,  181. 

Beauty,  as  a  moral  standard, 
43,  66;  as  the  motive  of  the 
poet,  65;  as  an  ideal,  144, 
149;  as  an  attribute  of  God, 
164,  165,  172;  as  a  recent 
motive,  291. 

Berkeley,  as  an  idealist,  138. 

Body,  tendency  to  reduce  soul 
to,  121-124;  mind  not  re- 
duced to,  by  psychology, 
131-137;  reduction  of,  to 
mind,  137-139. 

Browning,  as  a  philosophic 
poet,  59;  quoted,  63,  189. 

Browning,  Mrs.,  quoted,  5,  66, 
187. 


Bruno,  Giordano,  75. 

Bryce,  James,  on  sects  in 
America,  271. 

Burnett,  Frances  Hodgson, 
quoted,  275. 

Burroughs,  John,  quoted,  203, 
204. 

Butler,  Nicholas  Murray,  on 
equality,  252,  253;  on  Amer- 
ican idealism,  287. 

Byron,  129. 

Cole,  William  Morse,  on  Amer- 
ican idealism,  287,  288. 

Conflict,  moral.  See  Moral 
conflict. 

Conscience,  as  a  moral  stand- 
ard, 5;  analyzed  by  science, 
17;  its  worth,  43. 

Custom,  as  a  moral  standard, 
5,  29,  30;  unsettled  by 
science  and  the  World  War, 
16-18. 

Dante,  as  a  philosopher,  58, 
59;  his  moral  confidence,  51, 
66,  113. 

Darwin,  Charles,  113. 

Democracy,  threatened,  13 ; 
freedom  of,  207;  as  a  moral 
order,  247-257 ;  attributes  of, 
250-253;  and  religion,  270- 
275. 

Descartes,  and  the  self,  230. 

Desire,    the    ultimate    human, 


301 


INDEX 


45-47,   106,   107,    113,   114. 

See  also  Will  to  live. 
Determinism.    See  Freedom. 
Dewey,  John,  on  equality,  252. 
Dewey  and  Tufts,  on  religion 

and  morals,  262. 
Dickens,  quoted,  214. 
Dogmatism,  popular,  140,  141; 

scientific,  90,  91,  277,  278. 
Diihring,  Eugen  Carl,  130. 

Eckhart,  Meister,  60. 

Education,  as  stressing  the  in- 
dividual, 11 ;  unrest  in,  291. 

Eliot,  George,  quoted,  125. 

Emerson,  on  immortality,  153; 
on  God,  188,  276 ;  on  religion 
and  morals,  263,  264 ;  quoted, 
243. 

Equality,  11,  252,  253. 

Ethics,  defective,  reared  on 
science,  74-76,  81-85.  See 
also  Moral  order,  Moral 
standard. 

Euripides,  215. 

Evil,  problem  of,  239-242. 

Evolution,  moral  interpreta- 
tion of,  54,  158,  180,  294; 
uncritical  expansion  of,  70, 
71;  the  moral  ideal  of,  71, 
83,  84;  assumptions  of,  96; 
presupposes  the  will  to  live, 
145,  146;  qualitative  as  well 
as  quantitative,  146;  as 
deterministic,  219,  220. 

Faguet,  fimile,  on  sects  in 
America,  271. 

Faith,  moral.  See  Moral  con- 
fidence. 

Fatalism.    See  Freedom. 

Fichte,  138. 


Foch,  51. 

Freedom,  popular  meaning  of, 

195,  196;  practical  faith  in, 

196,  197,  202,  203;  theoreti- 
cal doubt  of,  197,  198;  rea- 
sons for  doubting,  198,  199; 
as    necessary    for    a    moral 
order,  55,  199-205,  206,  215- 
218,  253;   problem  of,  ana- 
lyzed, 205,  206;  undesirable 
kinds  of,  206-210;  of  choice, 
defined,  210-215;   of  choice, 
arguments  against,  72,  218- 
221 ;  failure  of  science  to  dis- 
prove,   78-81,    221-230;    as 
inner  necessity,  230-233;  of 
choice,    proof    of,    234-236; 
conciliation    of,   with    deter- 
minism, 243;  threatened  by 
certain    ideas    of   God,   193, 
194,  198,  199,  236-242,  276; 
in  democracy,  253,  292,  293; 
in  religion,  272,  273. 

Froude,  J.  A.,  220. 

Galsworthy,  John,  quoted,  92, 
93. 

Glanvill,  Joseph,  on  death,  160, 
161. 

God,  not  disproved  by  science, 
78-81,  89-91, 167-169;  proof 
of,  109,  162-194;  revival  of 
interest  in  problem  of,  162; 
definition  of,  164,  165,  182, 
183 ;  moral  value  of,  55,  164, 
165,  191,  192 ;  not  proved  by 
science,  165-167;  defective 
proofs  of,  169,  186,  187;  as 
a  moral  ideal,  170-183,  192 ; 
as  the  Perfect  Person,  172, 
173;  inclusive  of  all  moral 
deeds,  176-178;  includes  na- 


302 


INDEX 


ture,  178-181;  includes  the 
social  whole,  181,  182 ;  Chris- 
tian conception  of,  189-191; 
as  threatening  freedom,  193, 
194,  198,  199,  236-242,  276. 

Goethe,  his  Faust  referred  to, 
35;  as  a  philosophic  poet,  59. 

Goodness,  as  the  motive  of  the 
prophet,  65;  as  an  endless 
search,  144,  148,  149;  as  an 
attribute  of  God,  164,  165, 
172. 

Government,  social  control 
through,  41;  freedom  from, 
undesirable,  206,  207. 

Haeckel,  Ernst,  70. 

Hardy,  Thomas,  as  a  fatalist, 
215. 

Hartmann,  von,  his  pessimism, 
154. 

Hedonism,  conflict  of,  with 
self-sacrifice,  6-8;  as  the 
standard  of  society,  6,  7;  of 
youth,  21;  one-sidedness  of, 
34,  35;  conciliation  of,  with 
self-sacrifice,  35-37 ;  psych- 
ologic inadequacy,  35;  scien- 
tific, 81-83;  as  a  corollary  of 
fatalism,  204. 

Hegel,  138. 

Henley,  William  E.,  196. 

Howison,  George  Holmes,  on 
the  assumptions  of  evolution, 
96;  on  the  changing  past, 
241. 

Idealism,      impractical,      282 ; 

practical,  283-286.    See  also 

American  idealism. 
Ideals,  as  facts,  143,  144.    See 

also  Moral  standards. 


Immortality,  indifference  to 
problem  of,  119;  practical 
value  of,  55,  119,  120;  ages 
that  believed  in,  120;  proof 
of,  must  be  rational,  120, 
121 ;  attempts  to  prove  within 
materialism,  124-130 ;  fail- 
ure of  science  to  prove,  72, 
124-126 ;  failure  of  spiritual- 
ism to  prove,  126-129 ;  proof 
of,  beyond  science's  limits, 
78-81,  89-91,  130-137; 
proved,  if  body  reduced  to 
mind,  137-139 ;  technical 
ways  of  proving,  139-142; 
proof  of,  from  the  nature  of 
the  moral  order,  143-155; 
as  individual,  155;  as  in- 
volving everlasting  progress, 
155-157;  unsolved  questions 
concerning,  157,  158;  as  con- 
ditional, 159-161. 

Individual  and  society.  See 
Society  and  the  individual. 

Ingersoll,  Robert  G.,  on  life's 
futility,  150. 

Interactionism,  vs.  Parallelism, 
132-136;  does  not  reduce 
mind  to  body,  135,  136. 

James,  William,  on  moral  vs. 
scientific  demands,  109;  on 
free  will,  227,  228;  quoted, 
160. 

Jeanne  d'Arc,  51. 

Jesus,  his  moral  standard,  30; 
on  immortality,  154;  a  tradi- 
tional saying  of,  188;  as  a 
moral  ideal,  263,  274;  as 
a  practical  idealist,  283, 
284. 

John,  St.,  quoted,  189,  190. 


303 


INDEX 


Jordan,   David   Starr,   quoted,      Moral  confidence,  as  a  current 

lack,  50;  conditions  of,  51- 
57;  common  to  great  men 
and  civilizations,  51,  52;  re- 
quires faith  in  the  triumph 
of  righteousness,  53,  54;  in- 
volves convictions  concern- 
ing God,  Immortality,  and 
Freedom,  55,  56;  rests  on  a 
world  view,  58;  religion  as 
the  support  of,  56,  66; 
science  alone  cannot  guaran- 
tee, 69-91;  needed  for 
science,  110,  111;  based  on 
an  ultimate  Fact,  113,  114, 
145,  158;  inevitability  of, 
159;  need  of  immortality 
for,  154;  need  of  God  for, 
192 ;  presupposes  freedom, 
205;  present  tendencies  to- 
ward, 247-300;  and  religion, 
258-279;  the  renaissance  of, 
280-300. 

Moral  conflict,  its  present 
varieties,  3-23;  as  expressed 
in  the  average  American,  9, 
10;  causes  of,  14-19;  effects 
of,  19-22 ;  as  a  stage  of  prog- 
ress, 23,  25;  resolved  to  a 
conflict  of  ideals,  32,  33; 
solution  of,  24-50,  247,  248; 
in  religion,  264-270.  See 
also  Hedonism,  Reason,  So>- 
ciety  and  the  individual, 
Theoretical  vs.  Practical. 
Moral  order,  the,  involved  in 
the  desire  for  life,  108;  pre- 
supposed by  science,  110, 
111;  more  certainly  justified 
than  science,  110,  111;  as 
proving  immortality,  143- 
155,  255;  need  of  God  for, 


275. 

Kant,  mentioned,  67;  and  im- 
mortality, 120;  on  the  King- 
dom of  Ends,  251;  on  morals 
and  religion,  263. 

Kipling,  quoted,  39. 

Ladd,  George  Trumbull,  on  in- 
teraction of  body  and  mind, 
132,  133. 

Leibnitz,  120,  138. 

Lessing,  on  the  search  for 
truth,  156. 

Life,  as  the  justification  of 
science,  104,  105;  proof  of 
desirability  of,  106,  107.  See 
also  Will  to  live. 

Lincoln,  51. 

Locke,  John,  on  the  limits  of 
knowledge,  48. 

Longfellow,  quoted,  61. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  quoted, 
18,  53;  mentioned,  252. 

Lucretius,  as  a  philosophic 
poet,  59;  on  death,  123,  124; 
as  an  atheist,  187. 

Macaulay,  quoted,  34;  men- 
tioned, 296. 

Mackenzie,  J.  S.,  on  religion 
and  morals,  258. 

Matter.    See  Body,  Nature. 

Michelangelo,  his  idealism,  286. 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  quoted,  181. 

Mind,  tendency  to  identify  it 
with  the  body,  121-124 ;  psy- 
chology fails  to  reduce  it  to 
the  body,  131-137;  not  the 
subject  of  modern  psy- 
chology, 136;  body  may  be 
reduced  to,  137-139. 


304 


INDEX 


164,  165,  191,  192,  255,  256; 
includes  nature,  178-181;  in- 
cludes the  social  whole,  181, 
182,  253;  and  religion,  192; 
need  of  freedom  for,  199- 
205,  206,  215-218,  253,  255; 
as  democracy,  247-257. 
Moral  standard,  of  asceticism, 
5-8;  of  conscience,  5,  17,  43; 
of  custom,  5,  29,  30;  of  hap- 
piness, 5;  of  law,  5;  of  na- 
ture, 5;  of  pleasure,  6-8;  of 
reason,  5,  43;  of  revelation, 
5;  of  will,  5,  43;  each  im- 
plies the  rest,  26-43;  his- 
torical growth  of,  27-32 ;  the 
true,  44-50,  115,  150,  156, 
157,  159,  247,  248,  256;  how 
proved,  92-115;  God  as  the. 
164,  170-175,  183;  includes 
nature,  176;  dynamic,  176- 
178;  social  nature  of,  37^2, 
176.  See  also  Self-realiza- 
tion. 

Napoleon,  283,  284. 

Nature,  as  related  to  God,  176, 
178-181;  as  a  proof  of  God, 
186,  187;  as  mechanistic, 
198,  218-221;  freedom  from 
laws  of,  undesirable,  207- 
210;  does  not  disprove  free- 
dom of  choice,  221-230. 

Omar  Khayyam,  quoted,  76, 
194,  198,  204. 

Parallelism,  vs.  Interactionism, 
132—136;  does  not  reduce 
mind  to  body,  133-135. 

Parker,  Theodore,  263. 


Parmenides,  as  a  poet,  59. 

Paul,  St.,  and  moral  valor,  66, 
113;  on  immortality,  130. 

Perfect,  the  idea  of  the,  170- 
183. 

Perry,  Ralph  Barton,  on  reli- 
gion and  morals,  258. 

Philosopher,  the,  tends  to  be- 
come a  poet,  59,  60;  and  re- 
ligion, 60;  aim  of,  60,  61; 
method  of,  62,  112;  language 
of,  62-64;  motive  of,  65; 
neglect  of,  67;  new  interest 
in,  278. 

Plato,  on  the  Grecian  virtues, 
31;  and  Wordsworth,  59;  as 
a  poet,  59,  60;  moral  ideal- 
ism of,  75,  113;  and  immor- 
tality, 120,  131;  doctrine  of 
ideas,  138. 

Pleasure.     See  Hedonism. 

Poet,  the,  tends  to  become  a 
philosopher,  58 ;  and  religion, 
60;  aim  of,  60,  61;  method 
of,  62,  113;  language  of,  62- 
64;  motive  of,  65;  recent 
neglect  of,  66,  67;  new  inter- 
est in,  278,  279. 

Pope,  Alexander,  quoted,  61. 

Practical  vs.  Theoretical.  See 
Theoretical  vs.  Practical. 

Progress,  and  skepticism,  19; 
through  contradictions,  23 ; 
test  of  scientific,  110;  im- 
mortality as,  155-157;  re- 
lated to  God,  167;  presup- 
poses freedom,  204,  205. 

Proof,  moral,  defined  and  illus- 
trated, 92-115;  methods  of, 
beyond  science,  93-99;  of 
scientific  assumptions,  100- 
104;  moral,  based  on  nature 


305 


INDEX 


of  desire  for  life,  108,  109; 
of  immortality,  119-161;  of 
God,  162-194;  of  freedom, 
195-244;  moral  vs.  intel- 
lectual, 185,  186. 

Prophet,  the,  tends  to  become 
a  philosopher  and  a  poet, 
60;  aim  of,  60,  61;  method 
of,  62,  113 ;  language  of,  62- 
64;  motive  of,  65;  recent 
neglect  of,  67;  new  interest 
in,  279. 

Psychology,  dissipates  myster- 
ies, 16 ;  cannot  justify  a  soul, 
71,  72;  subject  matter  of, 
87;  thought  to  reduce  soul  to 
body,  122,  123;  failure  of, 
to  reduce  soul  to  body,  131- 
137;  as  deterministic,  209; 
does  not  disprove  freedom  of 
choice,  226,  227. 

Reason,  as  a  moral  standard, 
5,  43,  66;  as  synonymous 
with  science,  15,  67,  70, 
92;  as  the  motive  of  the 
philosopher,  65 ;  is  more  than 
science,  93-99;  as  an  at- 
tribute of  God,  164,  165;  as 
an  attribute  of  democracy, 
253,  293;  and  faith,  265, 
268-270,  273,  274,  276,  277. 

Reconstruction,  ethical,  needed, 
22,  23;  its  conditions,  56; 
now  occurring,  298-300. 

Religion,  scientific,  16;  revived 
by  the  World  War,  56;  re- 
cent neglect  of,  67;  and  the 
moral  order,  261-264;  and 
moral  confidence,  56,  66,  192, 
258-279;  moral  motive  of, 
258-261;  caught  in  current 


contradictions,  264—266 ;  solu- 
tion of  contradictions  in, 
266-270 ;  and  democracy, 
270-275 ;  and  self-realization, 
274,  275;  social  tendencies 
in,  275;  rational  tendencies 
in,  276,  277;  unrest  in,  291, 
292.  See  also  Prophet. 

Revelation,  as  a  moral  stand- 
ard, 5;  and  science,  17;  un- 
critical, 56. 

Richter,  Jean  Paul,  on  death, 
157. 

Royce,  Josiah,  as  a  religious 
philosopher,  60;  as  an  ideal- 
ist, 138;  on  American  ideal- 
ism, 287. 

Ruskin,  quoted,  147. 


Schopenhauer,  his  pessimism, 
154. 

Science,  natural,  regarded  as 
coextensive  with  reason,  15, 
67,  70,  92;  as  a  cause  of 
moral  conflict  and  skepticism, 
15-18;  and  the  arts,  15,  16; 
and  custom,  16,  17;  and  ef- 
ficiency, 15;  as  characteriz- 
ing our  civilization,  67,  68; 
misapprehension  of,  69;  the 
world-view  of,  71-74,  77-81; 
defective  ethics  reared  upon, 
74-76,  81-85;  subject  mat- 
ter and  method  of,  80,  81 ;  is 
abstract,  88;  moral  outcome 
of,  is  agnosticism,  90;  dog- 
matism of,  90,  91,  277,  278; 
need  for  exact  definition  of, 
91 ;  does  not  exhaust  reason, 
93-99;  assumptions  of,  96, 
97,  100-104,  222-228,  269; 


306 


INDEX 


justification  of,  104-107,  192, 
193;  presupposes  a  moral 
order,  110,  111,  178-181, 
185;  true  function  of,  111, 
112;  failure  of,  to  prove  or 
disprove  immortality,  72, 
124-126,  130-137;  failure  of, 
to  prove  or  disprove  God,  71, 
165-169 ;  as  necessitarian, 
72,  198,  208-210,  218-221; 
failure  of,  to  disprove  free- 
dom of  choice,  221-230;  its 
freedom  of  inner  necessity, 
230-233 ;  and  religion,  16, 17, 
265,  268-270,  273,  274.  See 
also  Social  sciences. 

Self,  ultimate  nature  of  the, 
228-230,  250-253;  as  social, 
37-42,  176,  181,  182,  253, 
275;  priceless  worth  of,  251, 
270,  271. 

Self-realization,  total,  as  the 
true  moral  standard,  46-50, 
115,  150,  156,  157,  247,  248, 
256;  God  as  the  type  of, 
170-183,  192 ;  religious 
tendencies  toward,  274,  275. 

Self-sacrifice.     See  Asceticism. 

Shakespeare,  and  the  moral 
order,  59 ;  quoted,  62,  130. 

Shelley,  quoted,  174,  247. 

Skepticism,  moral,  3,  4,  13-23; 
causes  of,  14—19;  effects  of, 
19-22;  as  a  stage  of  think- 
ing, 24,  25;  solution  of,  24- 
50;  logical  errors  in,  26,  27; 
religious,  56;  concerning  im- 
mortality, 121,  142;  concern- 
ing God,  163;  concerning 
freedom,  197-199. 

Social  sciences,  inadequate  to 
prove  moral  ideals,  86-89. 


Social  unrest,  American,  20,  21, 
288-295. 

Society  and  the  individual, 
conflict  between,  10-13,  288- 
292;  conciliated,  37-42,  176, 
181,  182,  253,  275,  292-295. 

Socrates  and  law,  42 ;  his  moral 
faith,  66,  75;  and  immortal- 
ity, 131;  his  belief  in  gods, 
188. 

Soul,  the,  science  cannot  prove, 
71,  72,  136.  See  also  Mind, 
Self. 

Space,  as  a  scientific  assump- 
tion, 96;  nature  of,  involved 
in  proof  of  immortality,  141, 
142. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  on  breadth 
of  life,  49;  on  cosmic  evolu- 
tion, 70. 

Spiritualism,  failure  of,  to 
prove  immortality,  126-129; 
not  involved  in  proof  of  im- 
mortality, 157. 

Stephen,  Fitz  James,  quoted, 
160. 

Swinburne,  on  man  as  a  par- 
adox, 73,  74. 


Ten   Commandments,  29-31. 

Tennyson,  as  a  philosophic 
poet,  59;  quoted,  14,  49,  59, 
64,  72,  110,  153,  188,  260, 
261. 

Thales,  on  death,  158. 

Theoretical  vs.  Practical,  14, 
280,  281;  in  conceptions  of 
freedom,  196-198 ;  concilia- 
tion of,  281-286. 

Time,  as  a  scientific  assump- 
tion, 96;  nature  of,  involved 


307 


INDEX 


in  proof  of  immortality,  141, 
142 ;  as  a  flux,  241. 

Totality  of  Things,  the,  165- 
167,  183,  186. 

Triumph  of  righteousness, 
necessity  of  belief  in,  53,  54 ; 
God  as  the  guaranty  of,  164, 
165. 

Truth,  related  to  the  rational, 
the  beautiful,  and  the  good, 
65,  113,  114,  150;  moral, 
proof  of,  92-115 ;  as  an  end- 
less search,  144,  147,  148 ;  as 
an  attribute  of  God,  164, 165, 
171.  ' 

Uniformity  of  Nature,  Law  of 
the,  as  a  scientific  assump- 
tion, 96;  proof  of,  100-104; 
not  necessarily  universal, 
222-228. 

Universal  Causation,  Law  of, 
as  a  scientific  assumption, 
96;  proof  of,  100-104;  modi- 
fication of,  222-228. 

Unknowable,  the,  as  God,  71, 
165-167. 

Van  Dyke,  Henry,  on  Ameri- 
can idealism,  286,  287. 


Van  Dyke,  John  C.,  quoted,  9. 

Vaughn,  Henry,  quoted,  63. 

Verities,  the  great,  new  ground- 
ing of  them  needed,  56,  57, 
276,  277 ;  must  be  proved  by 
reason,  93;  true  proof  of, 
109,  119-244 ;  involve  democ- 
racy, 250-253;  needed  by 
democracy,  254-256,  285. 
See  also  Freedom,  God,  and 
Immortality. 

Vinci,  da,  Leonardo,  idealism 
of,  75. 

Wells,  H.  G.,  quoted,  22,  23, 
119. 

Whitman,  Walt,  quoted,  157, 
179;  mentioned,  30. 

Will  to  live,  analyzed,  145-151. 
See  also  Desire. 

Wordsworth,  as  a  philosophic 
poet,  59;  quoted,  63,  64. 

World  War,  the,  as  a  cause  of 
moral  conflict  and  skepticism, 
18,  19;  as  a  social  unifier, 
40;  and  the  revival  of  re- 
ligion, 56,  67;  as  a  stimulator 
of  poetry,  66,  67;  as  a  modi- 
fier of  traditions,  92;  as  a 
struggle  for  freedom,  196; 
and  literature,  278,  279. 


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